"Of course not," agreed Dexter. "The answer's much simpler than that." He smothered a faint laugh. "I recall now that I slammed the door behind me when I left the cabin. It was a lift bar, like the one here, swinging on a pivot. The jolt must have thrown it down, and it dropped back into place and fastened itself."
"De corpor'l he fin' out effryt'ing," broke in a deep voice from the other side of the room.
The two officers turned with a start to stare across the gloomy chamber. In their deep absorption they had forgotten that the four prisoners could hear all that was said. They now perceived that they had an interested group of listeners. One of the men was on his knees, and as they peered into the shadow they made out the swarthy features of the giant half-breed, Doucet.
"What's that you said?" asked Devreaux gruffly.
"Mees Stark she keel Mudgett, and den shoot herself, lak de corpor'l tell. Oui! I talk to 'er dat night on tel'phone."
"You!" exclaimed Dexter.
"Oui. But, yes. She call up, say she been arrest' for shootin' dat constable."
"Where were you?" demanded the corporal.
"In a cabin farder down de valley. She call to talk wid Stark, 'er 'osband, but he away somew'eres. I dunno w'ere to fin' 'eem. Nobody in de cabin but me."
"And she told you what she had decided to do?"