“But if we succeed in finding it, could we place our hand upon the assassin?” I asked, looking straight at her.

“If we find it, the crime would then tell its own tale—­it would convict the person in whose hand I have seen that fatal weapon,” was her clear, bold answer.

“Then you wish me to assist you in this search, Miss Leithcourt?” I said, wondering if her suspicions rested upon that mysterious yachtsman, Philip Hornby, the man to whom she was engaged.

“Yes, I would beg of you to do your utmost in secret to endeavor to discover the body of the second victim.  It is a woman—­of that I am certain.  Find her, and we shall then be able to bring the crime home to the assassin.”

“But my search may bring suspicion upon me,” I remarked.  “It will be difficult to examine the whole wood without arousing the curiosity of somebody—­the keeper or the police.”

“I have already thought of that,” she said.  “I will pretend to-morrow to lose this watch-bracelet in the wood,” and she held up her slim wrist to show me the little enameled watch set in her bracelet.  “Then you and I will search for it diligently, and the police will never suspect the real reason of our investigation.  To-morrow I shall write to you telling you about my loss, and you will come over to Rannoch and offer to help me.”

I was silent for a moment.

“Is Mr. Woodroffe back at the castle?  I heard he was to return to-day.”

“No.  I had a letter from him from Bordeaux a week ago.  He is still on the Continent.  I believe, indeed, he has gone to Russia, where he sometimes has business.”

“I asked you the question, Miss Muriel, because I thought if Mr. Woodroffe were here, he might object to our searching in company,” I explained, smiling.

Her cheeks flushed slightly, as though confused at my reference to her engagement, and she said mischievously: 

“I don’t see why he should object in the least.  If you are good enough to assist me to search for my bracelet, he surely ought to be much obliged to you.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to explain to that dark-eyed, handsome girl the circumstances in which I had met her lover on the sunny Mediterranean shore, yet prudence forbade me to refer to the matter, and I at once gladly accepted her invitation to investigate the curious disappearance of the body of poor Olinto’s fellow-victim.

What secret knowledge could be possessed by that smart, handsome girl before me?  That her suspicions were in the right direction I felt confident, yet if the dead woman had been removed and hidden by the assassin it must have been after the discovery made by me.  The fellow must have actually dared to return to the spot and carry off the victim.  Yet if he had actually done that, why did he allow the corpse of the Italian to remain and await discovery?  He might perhaps have been disturbed and compelled to make good his escape.