“It looks that way,” admitted Saunders.  “But why hasn’t it been reported?”

“I think, Saunders,” Mark said thoughtfully, “that we had better take a walk near the wall ourselves.”

“I was going to suggest that very thing.”

The morning was not beautiful.  The chill wind of autumn had come up, and the pleasant weather that Mark had taken the trouble to praise was vanishing.  The clouds were dark and gloomy, threatening a storm.  When the men reached the bluff road, they saw that the ocean was disturbed, and that great white-capped waves were beating upon the beach below.  Their own thoughts kept both of them in tune with the elements.  Neither spoke a word as they rapidly covered the distance between the town and the spot of the tragedy.  But instinctively, as if caught by the same aversion, both slackened pace as they neared the wall of Killimaga.  Going slowly now they turned out of the road and approached the tree, looking fearfully down at the grass.  They reached the spot whereon they had left the body the evening before.  There was no body there.

They searched the bushes and the long grass, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary.  Closely they examined the ground; but not a trace of blood was to be seen, nor any evidence of conflict.  Saunders was stupefied, and Mark showed signs of growing wonder.

“It isn’t here,” half whispered Saunders.  “And it isn’t in the bushes.  What do you make of it, Griffin?”

Mark answered hesitatingly and half-nervously.

“I can’t make anything out of it, unless they have decided to hush the whole thing up, figuring that the men who interfered will never tell.  They disposed of the body overnight and covered all their traces.  Unless I am mistaken, no one will ever find it or know that the murder took place at all.”

“Then,” said Saunders emphatically, “they certainly had one of the big fellows here to see that it was properly done.”

“It looks probable,” replied Mark; “for a common murderer would not have planned so well.  An expert was on this crime.  The body is disposed of finally.”

Saunders looked around nervously.

“We had better go back, Griffin.  There’s nothing left for us to do, and they may be watching.”

Both men left the spot and returned to town; but they were no longer silent.  Mark was decidedly anxious, and Saunders voiced his worry in tones that shook.

“I have more fear than ever for your sake, Griffin, and I’m beginning to have some for my own.  Those fellows know how to act quickly and surely.  Their principal is in Washington.  He has had word already by cipher as to what has happened.  He won’t rest until he finds the witness, and then—­”

“And then?”

“I’m afraid they will try another murder.  They won’t trust a living soul to hold his peace under the circumstances.”

“But how are they to know I saw the thing?”