It was as if a tornado had whirled through the vast, low-ceilinged kitchen.  Heavy tables lay on their sides and upside down, their legs in the air.  Most of the crockery—­fortunately, so Blanche said to herself, kitchen crockery—­off the big dresser lay smashed in large and small pieces here, there, and everywhere.  A large copper preserving-pan lay grotesquely sprawling on the well-scrubbed centre table, which was the one thing which had not been moved—­probably because of its great weight.  And yet—­and yet it had been moved—­for it was all askew!  The man who did that, if, indeed, one man could alone have done all this mischief, must have been very, very strong—­a Hercules!

The doctor took the candle from Miss Farrow’s hand and walked in among the debris.  “He must have gone through that door,” he muttered.

Leaving her to be joined by the timorous James Tapster, he went boldly on across the big kitchen, and through a door which gave into what appeared to be a scullery.  But here everything was in perfect order.

“Where can the man have gone?” he asked himself in astonishment.

Before him there rose a vision of the respectable old butler, and of the two tall, well-matched, but not physically strong-looking footmen.  This must be the work of some man he had not yet seen?  Of course there must be many men employed about such a place as was Wyndfell Hall.

He retraced his steps.  “I think you and Mr. Tapster had better go upstairs again, and leave me to this,” he said decidedly.  “I’ll have a thorough hunt through the place, and it’ll probably take some time.  Perhaps the man’s taken refuge in the pantry.  By the way, where do the servants sleep?”

“Oddly enough, they’re none of them sleeping in the house,” said Blanche quietly.  “They’re down at what are called ‘the cottages.’  You may have seen a row of pretty little buildings not very far from the gate giving on to the high road?  Those cottages belong to Mr. Varick.  They’re quite comfortable, and we thought it best to put all the servants together there.  When I say all the servants”—­she corrected herself quickly—­“the ladies’ maids and Mr. Tapster’s valet all sleep in the house.  But Mr. Varick and I agreed that it would be better to put the whole of the temporary staff down together in the cottages.”

“In that case I think it’s very probable that the man, when he realized the mischief he’d done, bolted out of doors.  However, I may as well have a look round.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Blanche decidedly.  She turned to Mr. Tapster:  “I think you’d better go upstairs, and try and finish your night more comfortably.”

She spoke quite graciously.  Blanche was the one of the party who really tolerated Mr. Tapster—­Blanche and Mr. Tapster’s host.

“All right, I think I will.  Though I feel rather a brute at leaving you to do the dirty work,” he muttered.

He set off down the passage; and then, a few moments later, he had to call out and ask Miss Farrow to show him the way—­he had lost himself!