Wildemar Brent’s chill was over. Enthused by the presence of Professor Darwin Shelby, the naturalist had begun a new search for signs of those mysterious lights known as the ignis fatuus. It was after sunset; Brent and his esteemed guest had both taken to the marsh.
Twindell answered a ring at the door. It proved to be Nicholas Rokesbury. The engineer smiled as he saw Dorothy seated in front of the fire place. He entered the great hall and sat down beside the girl.
Twindell went upstairs.
“Where is your uncle?” queried Rokesbury, of Dorothy. “Out on the marsh with the professor?”
“They are both out on the marsh,” laughed the girl, “but not together.”
“Scientific jealousy?”
“Not at all. Uncle decided that by separating, they would have better chance of spying the will-o’-the-wisp. The professor seemed to approve the idea. So uncle drew diagrams of paths that he has discovered in the swamp and they each chose a separate course.”
“I hope they see the marsh lights,” chuckled Rokesbury. “But I doubt that they will. I faked that story about the watchman noticing them. I used it as an edge to get friendly with your uncle.”
“I thought so,” responded Dorothy. “Well, last night was unexciting. I hope that our troubles are at an end. Mr. Halthorpe seemed to think so. He stopped in last night.”
“What did he have to say?”
“He talked over financial matters with Uncle Wildemar. You see, Mr. Halthorpe has charge of the Thaddeus Culeth estate. No new heirs have appeared.”
“Are any likely to?”
“Mr. Halthorpe does not know; but as executor, he must act on the supposition that some one will arrive. For example, he cited the case of Austin Culeth.”
“The son? I thought he was dead.”
“Mr. Halthorpe thinks he is. But he stated that he must deal in possibilities, even though they are remote. He said that if Austin Culeth should happen to turn up alive — as is possible, though improbable — the estate would belong to him.”
“Of course. But how does that alter your uncle’s situation?”
“Austin Culeth — or some other unexpected heir — might want to keep this old mansion. Uncle has made no payments. The heir who agreed to the sale, Hector Lundig — is dead.”
“So what did Halthorpe suggest?”
“He decided that my uncle should move out shortly; that the house could remain vacant until next spring.”
“How did your uncle take that?”
“He was agreeable. You see, the first frost should come within a few weeks. When that occurs, there will be no use in further search for the ignis fatuus.”
“I see. The marsh lights would not show up in winter. Is that the idea?”
“I am not sure; but I do know that the phenomenon is frequent chiefly in warm weather. Autumn is almost here. Uncle Wildemar did not intend to remain here more than a few weeks longer.”
“Then who will own the house?”
“The estate; but my uncle will hold an option on it. As soon as we move, Mr. Halthorpe will have the place completely repaired and renovated.”
“Who will pay the bill?”
“The estate. Mr. Halthorpe says that he has authority to use funds for that purpose. I believe that he intends to do a thorough job. Uncle Wildemar seemed pleased. This morning he began to go through the house, tapping the walls, looking all about.”
“For what purpose?”
“To make a list of repairs that should be done. Uncle Wildemar is quite cagey at times. He is sure that the house will eventually be his and he apparently intends to get the full benefit when the repairs are made.”
“I wonder” — Rokesbury had arisen. He was pacing by the fire place — “if that prowler did come here to murder Merle Cray.”
“Why else could he have come?” questioned Dorothy.
“He was here before,” asserted Rokesbury. “At least he might have been that same bearded fellow whom you saw before.”
Dorothy nodded.
“Both went into the cellar,” reasoned Rokesbury. “You heard no tapping the night that Cray was killed; but maybe the fellow had no chance.”
“That is true. You are right, Nicholas. The murderer could have had some purpose other than killing Cray.”
“He was here looking for something, Dorothy. I believe that this old house holds some secret which no one suspects.”
THE girl stared as she nodded her agreement to Rokesbury’s belief.
“Searching the cellar,” mused Rokesbury. “But there is nothing down there. The secret must lie on this floor. Has your uncle looked about here yet?”
“No. He was on the second floor to-day. But what makes you think that the secret is on this floor, Nicholas?”
“My men searched the cellar two nights ago. While Halthorpe was looking for clues. There were three of them and I told them to be thorough. I am worried, Dorothy.”
“Why?”
“Because that prowler may come back. Of course, we will be ready for him; but he seems to be a dangerous character.”
Rokesbury paced about. He studied the walls of the great hall. He strolled over toward the door that led into the tapestried room. He beckoned to Dorothy. The girl approached.
“This door was open,” declared Rokesbury, in a low tone. “We found it that way — after Cray was killed.”
“Mr. Halthorpe thinks that Cray went in there.”
“If he did, it might have been because the prowler had been in the room before him.”
Rokesbury looked about. Twindell was not in sight. The engineer stepped through the door and turned on the light. He studied the oak panels that framed the tapestries. He looked at the baseboard; then to the molding.
“There might be a hinged panel here,” he said, “but I have another idea about it.”
“Some secret entrance?”
“Possibly. But the panels are too solid. Look at the molding and the baseboard. If those screws were taken out, the panels could be removed from the walls.”
Dorothy nodded.
“Three walls,” resumed Rokesbury, “for one side is all windows. Three men could take down those panels and replace them in less than an hour. How soon will your uncle be back, Dorothy?”
“Not for two hours.”
“I brought three men over with me. They are outside. I thought I would station them as guards. Dorothy, this room may be the next danger spot. Suppose I have them make a search.”
“You are sure,” queried Dorothy anxiously, “that they could do it in an hour?”
“Easily,” replied Rokesbury, “unless they find a secret opening behind the panels. Then we shall have to take time out to investigate. Let us try it. If these tapestried panels hide a secret, we can anticipate and be ready for coming danger.”
“Uncle is searching,” declared Dorothy, “but in a haphazard fashion. I suppose he would leave this room alone. It is in good condition. Mr. Halthorpe would not touch it, either. Not unless he—”
“Unless what?”
“Unless one or the other suspects that the house holds a secret and is preserving silence.”
Rokesbury pondered. This idea seemed to strike him. He rubbed his brow as he weighed the girl’s statement. While the man was in deep thought, Dorothy spoke.
“Bring in the workmen,” said the girl. “Have them search this room. I shall make sure that Twindell is not watching. It would not be wise to have him know what is going on.”
Rokesbury nodded. He followed Dorothy into the hallway. The girl looked up the stairway while the engineer went out to call his men. She was seated by the fire place when Rokesbury returned. She nodded to indicate that the way was clear. The engineer led his men into the paneled room.