“No, thanks,” answered Craig, rising from the floor. “I was just making a careful examination of the room before anyone was up so that nobody would think I was too interested. I've finished. But you can help me, after all. Do you think you could describe exactly how everyone was dressed that night?”
“Why, I can try. Let me see. To begin with, uncle had on a shooting-jacket—that was pretty well burnt, as you know. Why, in fact, we all had our shooting-jackets on. The ladies were in white.”
Craig pondered a little, but did not seem disposed to pursue the subject further, until Tom volunteered the information that since the tragedy none of them had been wearing their shooting jackets.
“We've all been wearing city clothes,” he remarked.
“Could you get your Uncle James and your Cousin Junior to go with you for an hour or two this morning on the lake, or on a tramp in the woods?” asked Craig after a moment's thought.
“Really, Craig,” responded Tom doubtfully, “I ought to go to Saranac to complete the arrangements for taking Uncle Lewis's body to New York.”
“Very well, persuade them to go with you. Anything, so long as you keep me from interruption for an hour or two.”
They agreed on doing that, and as by that time most of the family were up, we went in to breakfast, another silent and suspicious meal.
After breakfast Kennedy tactfully withdrew from the family, and I did the same. We wandered off in the direction of the stables and there fell to admiring some of the horses. The groom, who seemed to be a sensible and pleasant sort of fellow, was quite ready to talk, and soon he and Craig were deep in discussing the game of the north country.
“Many rabbits about here?” asked Kennedy at length, when they had exhausted the larger game.