"No," she answered, her eyes glancing from right to left. "I very seldom come down here. Harriet always attended to the household affairs. But I see nothing wrong."

"Come this way," and he pa.s.sed around the angle of the wall into the recess.

"Some one has been digging," she said, as her eyes fell upon the heap of dirt.

"Yes; what was this recess for, Miss Kingdon?"

"We had intended placing a furnace here," she said, "but after the house was finished, we decided that a furnace wasn't needed. Who has been digging here? You?" and her eyes again examined our earth-stained clothes.

"It was your sister dug the hole, and then filled it again, as you see."

"My sister?"

"Yes-she worked at it last night, and again to-night, when she thought herself secure from interruption."

"But why?" she asked, in bewilderment.

"Because she had something to conceal. This hole is a grave, Miss Kingdon. See there."

He flashed a ray from his electric torch full upon the leering face staring up at us.

Lucy Kingdon gazed down at it for a moment with distended eyes. Then, with a deep sigh, she sank backward to the floor.

CHAPTER XIX

Under Suspicion

We carried her up the stair and placed her on a couch in the room where her sister lay.

"She's only fainted," G.o.dfrey said. "Put some water on her face and chafe her hands. She'll soon come around. I must be off, or I'll miss my scoop, after all."

"All right," I agreed. "I'll wait here. You'd better notify the police."

"I will. But I'll get my shoes first," and he hurried out into the yard, while I got some cold water from the tap in the kitchen. "Here are yours, too," he said, coming back with both pairs. "You'd better put them on."

He had his own laced in a moment.

"I'll send the first officer I see," he promised, "and get back as soon as I can. But don't wait for me. Get to bed as soon as you can."

I heard his steps die away down the street, and turned back into the room where the two women lay. I was nearly dead for lack of sleep, and found myself nodding more than once, as I sat there by the couch bathing Lucy Kingdon's face. How G.o.dfrey kept it up I could not understand, but sleep never seemed to have a place in any of his plans.

But as moment after moment pa.s.sed, and Lucy Kingdon showed no sign of returning consciousness, growing alarm awakened me thoroughly. I soused her head and face and chafed her wrists, but with no perceptible effect. I could feel no pulse, could detect no respiration; perhaps this was something more serious than a mere fainting spell. I should have told G.o.dfrey to summon a physician.

I was relieved at last to hear a step turn in at the gate, and a moment later a patrolman appeared at the door-a rotund and somnolent German, whose somnolency gave place to snorts of mingled terror and astonishment when he saw the two bodies.

"Mein Gott!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Two of t'em!"

"No; only one as yet," I corrected. "But there may be two if something isn't done to save this one pretty quick," and I bent again over Lucy Kingdon and chafed her hands.

"Ha.s.s she fainted?" he asked.

"That or just naturally dropped dead," I said. "She's been like this for fifteen or twenty minutes."

He came to the bed, stooped down, and pressed back one of her eyelids.

"She ain't dead," he said. "She's chust fainted. I know a trick," and before I could interfere, he gave her ear a cruel tweak.

"Why, you scoundrel!" I began, but a sigh from the couch interrupted me. I turned to see Lucy Kingdon's dark eyes staring up at me.

"You see," he said triumphantly. "I nefer knowed it to fail."

She stirred slightly, drew one hand across her eyes, then, with a long sigh, turned over on her side.

"Come on out here," I said in a low tone, "and don't disturb her. Sleep's the best thing for her now, if she can get it. Besides, I've something to show you," and picking up the lamp, I led the way to the kitchen and closed the door.

"Somet'ing else to show me?" he repeated, staring about at the walls.

"Yes; come along," and I started down the cellar stairs.

He followed me, breathing heavily. As I glanced over my shoulder I was amused to see that he had drawn his revolver.

"This way," I said, and stepped into the recess. "See there!"

He turned livid as he gazed down into the grave, and his hands and face grew clammy.

"Mein Gott!" he breathed. "Mein Gott!" and he returned his revolver to his pocket, took off his helmet and wiped his forehead with a shaking hand.

He said nothing more until we were back again in the kitchen. Then he looked at me with gla.s.sy eyes.

"But who's t'e murderer?" he demanded. "Where's t'e guilty party?"

"I don't know," I answered. "That's for you to find out. As for me, I'm going to bed."

"Wait a minute," he said, detaining me, as I started for the door. "Who was t'at feller who told me to come here?"

"He was a reporter named G.o.dfrey. He had nothing to do with it."

"But somebody must be arrested for t'is," and he looked at me in a way that was most suggestive.

"Well, you're not going to arrest me," I retorted.

"What's t'at on your hand?" he asked, and caught my wrist and held it to the light.

"It's blood," I said; "but it's my own," and then I was again suddenly conscious of my strange appearance, and realised how unaccountable my presence in this house must seem. "Oh, well," I said, "there's no use to waste time arguing about it. I suppose you're right in holding me. Go call your chief. I'll explain things to him."

"I can't leave you here," he protested. "T'e patrol box is at t'e corner."

"All right; I'll go with you," I agreed. "I don't want to escape," and I accompanied him to the box, and waited while he called up headquarters, and sent in a brief but highly-coloured version of the tragedy.