“He sat there, cursing and drinking, till he fell asleep with his head on the table, snoring.  I sat there not daring to breathe, hoping he’d sleep till morning, but Miss Fanning woke him up about nine, and he staggered to his feet to get out, with his revolver stuck in his coat pocket.  He was away over three hours and the girl and I sat there without saying a word, just looking at each other and waiting for a clock on the mantelpiece to chime the quarters.  It was a cuckoo clock, and it had just chimed twelve when we heard a quick step coming upstairs to the flat.  The girl fixed her big dark eyes inquiringly on me, and then we heard a hoarse whisper through the keyhole telling us to open the door.

“The girl ran to the door and let him in, but she shrieked at the sight of him when she saw him in the light.  For he looked ghastly, and there was a spot of blood on his face, and his hands were smeared with it.  He was shaking all over, and he went to the whisky bottle and drained the drop of spirit he’d left in it.  Then he turned to us and said, ’Sir Horace Fewbanks is dead—­murdered!’ I suppose he read what he saw in our eyes, for he burst out angrily, ’Don’t stand staring at me like a pair of damned fools.  You don’t think I did it?  As God’s my judge, I never did it.  He was dead and stiff when I got there.’

“Then he told us his story of what had happened.  He said that when he got to Riversbrook there was a light in the library and he got over the fence and hid himself in the garden.  Then he noticed that there was a light in the hall and that the hall door was open.  He thought Sir Horace had left it open by mistake, and he was going to creep into the house and hide himself there till after Sir Horace went to bed.  But suddenly the light in the library went out and Birchill again hid behind a tree, for he thought Sir Horace was retiring for the night.  Then the light in the hall went out and immediately after Birchill heard the hall door being closed.  Then he heard a step on the gravel path and saw a woman walking quickly down the path to the gate.  She was a well-dressed woman, and Birchill naturally thought that she was one of Sir Horace’s lady friends.  But he thought it odd that Sir Horace, who was always a very polite gentleman to the ladies, should not have shown her off the premises.  He waited in the garden about half an hour, and as everything in the house seemed quite still, he made his way to a side window and forced it open.  He had an electric torch with him, and he used this to find his way about the house.  First of all, he wanted to find out in which room Sir Horace was sleeping, and he knew from the plan he’d made me draw for him which was Sir Horace’s bedroom, so he went there and opened the door quietly and listened.  But he could not hear anyone breathing.  Then he tried some of the other rooms and turned on his torch, but could see no one.  He thought that perhaps Sir Horace had fallen asleep in a chair in the library,