“No trace of anything?” he asked.
“Not a trace,” some one replied.
We walked with ever-decreasing pace, a rather uncertain group, down toward the crags of the shore. All of us, I think, were busy with our own thoughts. All of us paused, at last, forty yards from the scene of the tragedy.
“There’s really nothing further we can do,” Nopp said. “If the murderer is among the servants we’ve got him—you found ’em all, didn’t you, Nealman?”
“All of ’em. No suspicious circumstances.”
“Good. If he is some outsider, we’ll round him up. I rather think the former—it’s too early to make a guess. But I think we’d better appoint a guard over the body—to keep any curious persons from coming near and tramping out footprints, and so on. There’s apt to be a crowd of the curious here to-morrow.”
All of us nodded. Lemuel Marten whispered an oath.
Nopp turned to him. “Would you mind taking that post to-night, Marten?” he asked. Because he already knew the man’s answer, he turned to us. “Lem’s the best man for the post,” he explained. “You chaps know we’ll all have to give an account of our actions to-night. It’s customary at such times. And you know that Lem was busy singing his pirate song when the thing occurred.”
“That’s an unnecessary point, Joe,” Marten answered. “None of us will be in the least suspected. This poor chap—that none of us knew. However, I’ll gladly enough act as guard.”
“You’ve still got your gun?”