"I must know," he said, "more about the conditions in this house last night."
He had spoken softly, musingly, yet the man, who had displayed the symptoms of a radical deafness, glanced up, asking without hesitation:
"You don't suspect anything out of the way, sir?"
Garth studied him narrowly.
"I want to know why the shot wasn't heard. You were here and Mr. Taylor's mother-in-law. Who else?"
The bony hand snapped to McDonald's ear again.
"Eh? Eh?"
"Speak up," Garth said impatiently. "Who was in the house besides yourself and Mrs. Taylor's mother?"
"The cook, Clara, sir—only the cook, Clara."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely, sir. Who else should there be? We've been short of servants lately."
Garth dismissed him, instructing him to send Mrs. Taylor's mother. While he waited he stared from the window again, jerking savagely at his watch ribbon. From McDonald he had received a sharp impression of secretiveness. He hadn't cared to arouse the servant's suspicions. Through strategy he might more surely learn whatever the old man had held back.
Garth swung around with a quick intake of breath. He had heard no one enter. Through the obscurity, accented rather than diminished by the circular patch of light around the chair, he could see no one. Yet
