He is in the impregnable position of the body showing all the symptoms of death by lightning shock and nothing else but lightning to account for it—­a dilated eye, heart contracted in systole, bloodless lungs shrunk to a third the normal weight, and all the rest of it.  When he has removed a few outward traces of his work Creake might quite safely ‘discover’ his dead wife and rush off for the nearest doctor.  Or he may have decided to arrange a convincing alibi, and creep away, leaving the discovery to another.  We shall never know; he will make no confession.”

“I wish it was well over,” admitted Hollyer, “I’m not particularly jumpy, but this gives me a touch of the creeps.”

“Three more hours at the worst, lieutenant,” said Carrados cheerfully.  “Ah-ha, something is coming through now.”

He went to the telephone and received a message from one quarter; then made another connection and talked for a few minutes with someone else.

“Everything working smoothly,” he remarked between times over his shoulder.  “Your sister has gone to bed, Mr. Hollyer.”

Then he turned to the house telephone and distributed his orders.

“So we,” he concluded, “must get up.”

By the time they were ready a large closed motor car was waiting.  The lieutenant thought he recognised Parkinson in the well-swathed form beside the driver, but there was no temptation to linger for a second on the steps.  Already the stinging rain had lashed the drive into the semblance of a frothy estuary; all round the lightning jagged its course through the incessant tremulous glow of more distant lightning, while the thunder only ceased its muttering to turn at close quarters and crackle viciously.

“One of the few things I regret missing,” remarked Carrados tranquilly; “but I hear a good deal of colour in it.”

The car slushed its way down to the gate, lurched a little heavily across the dip into the road, and, steadying as it came upon the straight, began to hum contentedly along the deserted highway.

“We are not going direct?” suddenly inquired Hollyer, after they had travelled perhaps half-a-dozen miles.  The night was bewildering enough but he had the sailor’s gift for location.

“No; through Hunscott Green and then by a field-path to the orchard at the back,” replied Carrados.  “Keep a sharp look out for the man with the lantern about here, Harris,” he called through the tube.

“Something flashing just ahead, sir,” came the reply, and the car slowed down and stopped.

Carrados dropped the near window as a man in glistening waterproof stepped from the shelter of a lich-gate and approached.

“Inspector Beedel, sir,” said the stranger, looking into the car.

“Quite right, Inspector,” said Carrados.  “Get in.”

“I have a man with me, sir.”

“We can find room for him as well.”

“We are very wet.”