struggle. I think she was asleep when she was struck."

"Ah! And was not standing by the table? How about the blood there,
then?"

"Shaken from the murderer's fingers in fright or disgust."

"There was no blood on Philemon's fingers."

"No; he wiped them on his sleeve."

"If he was the one to use the dagger against her, where is the
dagger? Should we not be able to find it somewhere about the
premises?"

"He may have buried it outside. Crazy men are super naturally
cunning."

"When you can produce it from any place inside that board fence, I
will consider your theory. At present I limit my suspicions of
Philemon to the half-unconscious attentions which a man of
disordered intellect might give a wife bleeding and dying under
his eyes. My idea on the subject is---"

"Would you be so kind as not to give utterance to your ideas until
I have been able to form some for myself?" interrupted a voice
from the doorway.

As this voice was unexpected, they all turned. A small man with
sleek dark hair and expressionless features stood before them.