‘But they wouldn’t leave the body in the cellar,’ I objected; ‘and if, as this fellow says, they were only away a few minutes, they couldn’t have dug a grave for it. And then it says that they “there in the earth found the lord.”’
‘It would have been more interesting,’ said Denny, ‘if they’d told Alexander a bit more about it. However I suppose he consoles himself with his chant again?’
‘He does. It follows immediately on what I’ve read, and so the thing ends.’ And I sat looking at the little yellow volume. ‘Where did you find it, Denny?’ I asked.
‘Oh, on a shelf in the corner of the hall, between the Iliad and a Life of Byron. There’s precious little to read in this house.’
I got up and walked back to the hall. I looked round. Euphrosyne was not there. I inspected the hall door; it was still locked on the inside. I mounted the stairs and called at the door of her room; when no answer came, I pushed it open and took the liberty of glancing round; she was not there. I called again, for I thought she might have passed along the way over the hall and reached the roof, as she had before. This time I called loudly. Silence followed for a moment. Then came an answer, in a hurried, rather apologetic tone, ‘Here I am.’ But then—the answer came not from the direction that I had expected, but from the hall! And, looking over the balustrade, I saw Euphrosyne sitting in the armchair.
‘This,’ said I, going downstairs, ‘taken in conjunction with this’—and I patted One-Eyed Alexander’s book, which I held in my hand—‘is certainly curious and suggestive.’
‘Here I am,’ said Euphrosyne, with an air that added, ‘I’ve not moved. What are you shouting for?’
‘Yes, but you weren’t there a minute ago,’ I observed, reaching the hall and walking across to her.
She looked disturbed and embarrassed.
‘Where have you been?’ I asked.