"Ah, this is the nearest way from the house, across the lawn, of

course," said Mr. Jacobs. "I suppose this is the way Lord Heyton comes

when he goes for his bath. Right across the lawn, eh?"

The Inspector nodded indifferently. It seemed to him that the detective

was curious about everything unconnected with the case.

They went across the lawn, the detective still dilating on the charms of

a country life, and entered the wood. If they had not followed exactly

the line taken by Heyton in the morning, they had touched it now and

again; and when they reached the edge of the lake, Mr. Jacobs looked

round in a casual way and presently seated himself on the big stone on

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which Heyton had sat while he dressed himself. Mr. Jacobs obviously was

delighted with the lake and its surroundings; and the Inspector would

not have been surprised if the great detective had proposed a swim; but

he stopped short of that eccentricity and they returned to the house.

They went into the state rooms, which received Mr. Jacobs' unstinted

admiration, and were crossing the hall to the little sitting-room which

had been set apart for him, when Celia met them. She was very pale, and

her brows were drawn together by trouble and anxiety; for a great deal

of responsibility had fallen suddenly on her shoulders. Though a duly

qualified nurse was in possession of the sick-room, Mrs. Dexter and

Celia were assisting her; and Celia had Miriam almost entirely on her

hands; for Miriam was almost in a state of collapse. Celia had expected

her to break down; but there was something in Miriam's condition which

puzzled Celia. She seemed not only overwhelmed by grief and anxiety, but

to be possessed of a nervous terror which expressed itself in an

avoidance of her husband. Lord Heyton had asked after his wife several

times that day; but Miriam had refused to see him, and once, when Celia

ventured to plead with her, and to try to persuade her to allow Lord

Heyton to come into the room, Miriam had sprung at the door and leant

with her back against it, panting, with absolute terror, and with a look

of horror on her face which at once stopped all Celia's attempts at

persuasion.

For a time, Miriam paced up and down the room, like one distraught,

continually muttering, "Will he die? Will it be murder?" But at last

Celia had succeeded in getting the hysterical woman to bed, where she

lay, exhausted by her emotions. Celia was on her way to ask Doctor Scott

for a sleeping draught, when she was met by the detective and the

Inspector.




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