“Carlos!  What the deuce are you doing here?”

The Panamanian expelled a cloud of smoke.  He smiled.

“Resting after a fatiguing walk.”

In his unexpected presence Bobby fancied a demolition of the hope Graham and he had brought back from the city.  He couldn’t imagine guilt lurking behind that serene manner.

“Where did you come from?  What were you up to last night?”

There was no accounting for Paredes’s daring, he told himself, no accounting for his easy gesture now as he drew again at his cigarette and tossed it in the fireplace.

“These gentlemen,” he said, “have been asking just that question.  I’m honoured.  I had no idea my movements were of such interest.  I’ve told them that I took a stroll.  The night was over.  There was no point in going to bed, and all day I had been without exercise.”

“Yet,” Graham said harshly, “you have had practically no sleep since you came here.”

Paredes nodded.

“Very distressing, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” Rawlins sneered, “you’ll tell us why you went on tiptoe, and I suppose you didn’t hear a woman crying in the woods?”

“That’s just it,” Paredes answered.  “I did hear something like that, and it occurred to me to follow such a curious sound.  So I went on tiptoe, as you call it.”

“Why,” Robinson exclaimed angrily, “you walked in the lake to hide your tracks!”

Paredes smiled.

“It was very dark.  That was chance.  Quite silly of me.  My feet got wet.”

“I gather,” Rawlins said, “it was chance that took you to the deserted house.”

Paredes shook his head.

“Don’t you think I was as much puzzled as the rest by that strange, disappearing light?  It was as good a place to walk as any.”

“Where have you been since?” Graham asked.

“When I had got there I was tired,” Paredes answered.  “Since it wasn’t far to the station I thought I’d go on into Smithtown and have a bath and rest.  But I assure you I’ve trudged back from the station just now.”

Suddenly he repeated the apparently absurd formula he had used with Howells.

“You know the court seems full of unfriendly things—­what the ignorant would call ghosts.  I’m Spanish and I know.”  After a moment he added:  “The woods, too.  I shouldn’t care to wander through them too much after dark.”

Robinson stared, but Rawlins brushed the question aside.

“What hotel did you go to in Smithtown?”

“It’s called the ‘New.’  Nothing could be farther from the fact.”

“Shall I see if that’s straight, sir?”

The district attorney agreed, and Rawlins left the room.  Paredes laughed.

“How interesting!  I’m under suspicion.  It would be something, wouldn’t it, to commit crimes with the devilish ingenuity of these?  No, no, Mr. District Attorney, look to the ghosts.  They alone are sufficiently clever.  But I might say, since you take this attitude, that I don’t care to answer any more questions until you discover something that might give you the right to ask them.”