right. I am going to assume, however, that you are wrong, and that the
object of sending Bolton here last night was to open and shut these
doors. I propose now to return again to the scene of the interrupted
supper."

Leaving the garage not very much wiser than when we had entered it,
we paced once more up the drive in the shade of the big trees and
were greeted again by the malarious smell of rotting leaves. Entering
the Red House, Gatton and I proceeded first to that incredible oasis
in the desert of empty rooms and my companion made a detailed
examination of everything in the place, even sounding the walls,
examining the fittings of the door, and finally proceeding through the
hall in the direction of the south wing of the house--that nearest to
the garage.

What he expected to find I had no idea, but his attention seemed to be
more particularly directed towards the wainscot and the picture-rails
of the empty and uncarpeted rooms which we entered. Whatever he had
sought he failed to find, and at last we stood in a desolate apartment
looking out into the tangled shrubbery before the windows. The back of
the garage was visible from there and I viewed it dully, wondering
what evil secret it held, and marveling at the trick of fate which had
made me witness of an act in this gruesome drama.

"Of course, Gatton," I said, "we are all along assuming that Sir
Marcus actually met his death in this house. We must remember that he
may merely have been brought here after the crime."

"Such a short period elapsed," replied the Inspector, "between his
leaving the New Avenue Theater and the approximate time of his death