Mackay shook his head.  “There was no moon, you know, and everything happened swiftly.

“But was he tall or short or slender or stout—­the deputy must have got some vague idea of him at least.”

“It was one of my amateur deputies,” Mackay admitted, reluctantly.  “He thought the man was hatless, but couldn’t even be sure of that.”

“Were there footprints, or fingerprints—­”

“No, Mr. Kennedy, we’re out of luck again.  When he jumped out he fell to his hands and knees in a garden bed.  The foot marks were ruined because his feet slid and simply made two irregular gashes.  The marks of his hands indicated to me, anyhow, that he wore heavy gloves, rubber probably.”

“Any disturbance in the library?”

“Not that I could notice.  That’s why I phoned you at once.  I’m hoping you’ll discover something.”

“Well—­” Kennedy sighed.  “It was a wonderful opportunity to get to the bottom of this.”

“I haven’t told you all yet, Mr. Kennedy,” Mackay went on.  “There was a second man, and—­”

“A second man?” Kennedy straightened, distinctly surprised.  “I would swear this whole thing was a one-man job.”

“They weren’t together,” the district attorney explained.  “That’s why I didn’t mention them both at once.  But my deputy says that when he was thrown by the lash of the branch he was unable to move for a few seconds, on account of the nerve shock I suppose, and that while he was motionless, squatted in a sort of sitting position with hands braced behind him, just as he fell, he was aware of a second stranger concealed in the shrubbery.

“The second fellow was watching the first, without the question of a doubt.  While the deputy slowly rose to his feet this other chap started to follow the man who had broken into the house.  But at that moment there was the sudden sound of a self-starter in a car, then the purr of a motor and the clatter of gears.  Number one spun off in the darkness of the road as pretty as you please.  Number two grunted, in plain disgust.

“By this time my deputy had his wind.  His revolver was gone, but he jumped the second stranger with little enough hesitation and they battled royally for several minutes in the dark.  Unfortunately, it was an unequal match.  The intruder apparently was a stocky man, built with the strength of a battleship.  He got away also, without leaving anything behind him to serve for identification.”

“You have no more description than of the first man?”

“Unfortunately not.  Medium height, a little inclined to be stocky, strong as a longshoreman—­that’s all.”

“Are you sure your deputy isn’t romancing?”

“Positively!  He’s the son of one of our best families here, a sportsman and an athlete.  I knew he loved a lark, or a chance for adventure, and so I impressed him and a companion as deputies when I met them on the street on my way up to Phelps’s house just after the tragedy.”