Well, he might have done one of two other things. There is a path which
leads from the Keep down to the beach, immediately opposite the big rocks
which you have no doubt seen. There is another path which turns out of
the woods and follows the cliffs towards Lenwick, a village along the
coast, a mile away. But--at that time, on a Sunday afternoon, both paths
would be frequented. Speaking from knowledge, I should say that Mr.
Oliver cannot have left the woods--he must have been seen had he done so.
It's impossible that he could have gone down to the shore or along the
cliffs without being seen, too--impossible!"

There was a certain amount of insistence in the last few words which
puzzled Copplestone--also they conveyed to him a queer suggestion which
repulsed him; it was almost as if the speaker was appealing to him to use
his own common-sense about a difficult question. And before he could make
any reply Mrs. Greyle put a direct inquiry to him.

"What is going to be done?"

"I don't know, exactly," answered Copplestone. "I'm going to stay here
for the night, anyway, on the chance of hearing something. Stafford is
coming back in the morning--he spoke of detectives."

He looked a little doubtfully at his questioner as he uttered the last
word, and again he saw the sudden strange flash of unusual interest in
her eyes, and she nodded her head emphatically.

"Precisely!--the proper thing to do," she said. "There must have been
foul play--must!"

"Mother!" exclaimed Audrey, half doubtfully. "Do you really think--that?"