She gave way before him, backing to the door; there she laughed again, waved her hand in a contemptuous farewell, and withdrew.

For half an hour Carnaby stood by the divan, or paced the room.  Once or twice he imagined a movement of Redgrave’s features, and bent to regard them closely; but in truth there was no slightest change.  Within doors and without prevailed unbroken silence; not a step, not a rustle.  The room seemed to grow intolerably hot.  Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Hugh went to the window and opened it a few inches; a scent of vegetation and of fresh earth came to him with the cool air.  He noticed that rain had begun to fall, large drops pattering softly on leaves and grass and the roof of the veranda.  Then sounded the rolling of carriage wheels, nearer and nearer.  It was the doctor’s carriage, no doubt.

Uncertainty soon came to an end.  Cyrus Redgrave was beyond help:  he must have breathed his last —­ so said the doctor —­ at the moment when he fell.  Not as a result of the fall; the blow of Carnaby’s fist had killed him.  There is one stroke which, if delivered with sufficient accuracy and sufficient force, will slay more surely than any other:  it is the stroke which catches an uplifted chin just at the right angle to drive the head back and shatter the spinal cord.  This had plainly happened.  The man’s neck was broken, and he died on the spot.

Carnaby and the doctor stood regarding each other.  They spoke in subdued voices.

‘It was not a fight, you say?’

‘One blow from me, that was all.  He said something that maddened me.’

‘Shall you report yourself?’

‘Yes.  Here is my card.’

‘A sad business, Mr. Carnaby, Can I be of any use to you?’

’You can —­ though I hesitate to ask it.  Mrs. Fenimore should be told at once.  I can’t do that myself.’

‘I know Mrs. Fenimore very well.  I will see her —­ if she is at home.’

On this errand the doctor set forth.  As soon as he was gone, Hugh rang the bell; the same domestic as before answered it, and again he asked for Mrs. Lant.  He waited five minutes; the servant came back, saying that Mrs. Lant was not in the house.  This did not greatly surprise him, but he insisted on a repetition of the search.  Mrs. Lant could not be found.  Evidently her disappearance was a mystery to this young woman, who seemed ingenuous to the point of simple-mindedness.

‘You are not to go into that room,’ said Hugh. (They were talking in the hall.) ‘The doctor will return presently.’

And therewith he left the house.  But not the grounds; for in rain and darkness he stood watching from a place of concealment, watching at the same time Redgrave’s curtained window and the front entrance.  His patience was not overtaxed.  There sounded an approaching vehicle; it came up the drive and stopped at the front door, where at once alighted the doctor and a lady.  Hugh’s espial was at an end.  As the two stepped into the house he walked quickly away.