“Yessir!” Petrie miraculously produced the roll from under his tunic and spread the sheet out.  Then they lifted up the body and wrapped it about so that the covering hid the awfulness of it from view.  Mr. Narkom mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.

“Cinnamon, Cleek!” he ejaculated, breathlessly.  “Pretty awful, isn’t it?  Was it much hidden, Petrie?  Funny the other people didn’t find it when they searched!”

“No, sir—­plain as a pikestaff!” returned Petrie importantly, for he felt the burden of responsibility and hoped that this would mean promotion.  Dollops, who was by no means a regular member of the force, simply looked at Cleek with considerable pride fighting through the natural horror that the find had given birth to.

“Funny thing!” broke in Cleek at this juncture.  “The only solution must be that the body was placed there some time after death....  Leave it a little longer, boys, and we’ll have a further search in this direction.  We may come upon poor Collins in a similar fashion—­though thank Heaven his disappearance didn’t happen quite so long ago.”

They took a few steps farther in the same direction and—­stopped simultaneously.  Before their eyes lay the figure of Collins, in his discreet black clothes, his red head against a tuffet of moss, and a bullet wound in his temple.

“God!” said Cleek, softly, and sucked in his breath.  “Two of ’em.  And like this!...  Looks like a plant, doesn’t it?  Poor chap!...  And yet Merriton declared that he, as well as others, had searched every inch of this ground over and over again.  Seems fishy.  To find ’em both here—­so close together....  Let’s have a look at the other poor chap....  Hmm.  Bullet wound through the right temple, too.  Small-calibre revolver.”

He bent down and examined the head carefully through his magnifying glass, then got slowly to his feet.

“Well, Mr. Narkom,” said he, steadily, “nothing to be done at present, but to get these bodies back to the Towers.  After that they can take ’em to the village mortuary if they like.  But I’ve one or two things I’d like to ask you Merriton, and one or two things I want to examine.  Gad! it’s a beastly task, boys.  That sheet’s big enough, thank fortune!  Cross the pitchforks, Petrie, and make a sort of stretcher out of them, that way.  That’s right.  Now then, forward....  Gad! what a morning!”

But if he had known just exactly what the rest of that morning was to bring forth, indeed before lunch was served at one-fifteen, he might have hesitated to pass judgment upon it so soon.

Slowly the cavalcade wended its way across the rank grass....

CHAPTER XIV

THE SPIN OF THE WHEEL

Merriton stood at the study window, looking out, and pulling at his cigar with an air of profound meditation.  Upon the hearth-rug Doctor Bartholomew, clad in baggy tweeds, stood tugging at his beard and watched the man’s back with kindly, troubled eyes.