The match which had showed the disorder of the place had burned out, and the doctor, still frowning over the next step, had just lit another, when from outside there rang out the sharp ping of a rifle shot.
"That is Geoffrey!" he said, "and what in God's name is happening? Upstairs again."
They groped their way back along the basement to the door leading into the hall. Close to this went up the back stairs forming the servants' communication with the upper story, and, seeing these, the doctor clicked his tongue against his teeth.
"That's how we missed him," he said; "he went this way up to Mr. Francis, while we were going down the front stairs."
They passed through into the hall, and a draught of cold air met them. There was no longer any reason for secret movements, and the doctor turned on the electric light. The front door was open, and the wreaths of dense mist streamed in.
"Go and see if you can help Mr. Geoffrey, Jim," he said, "if you can find him. It is clear that Sanders has left the house: who else could have opened that door? I must see to that which we left upstairs."
He ran up. The room door as they had left it was open; on the floor still lay what they had left there. But it was lying no longer on its face; the sightless eyes were turned to the ceiling, and the Luck was no longer clasped, with fingers intertwined in its strap, to the breast.
The doctor fought down an immense repugnance against touching the body; but the instinct of saving life, however remote that chance, prevailed, and taking hold of one of the hands, he felt for the pulse. But as he touched it two of the fingers fell backward, dislocated or broken.
Then, with a swift hissing intake of his breath, he pressed his finger on the wrist. But the search for the pulse was vain.
It was about a quarter past eight when Geoffrey left Jim in the secret passage, and, in accordance with his instructions, went back to the box hedge where he had concealed the rifle and cartridges. With these he skirted wide up the short grassy slope that led to the summerhouse, and trying the door, found it unlocked. It stood, as he had supposed, some fifteen feet above the level of the mist that lay round the house below, and was admirably situated for the observation of any movement or manoeuvre that might be made, for it commanded a clear view past the front of the house down to the lake, while the road from the stables passed not fifty yards from it, joining the carriage sweep: from the carriage sweep at right angles ran the drive. Clearly, then, if Jim's account of Sanders's visit and order to the stables covered a design, the working out of it must take place before his eyes.