The girl I could not see distinctly, as her head was partly enveloped in a cloak, but the face of the man stood out very plainly in the moonlight—it was the face of a black!
What could a black man and a young girl be doing prowling about the grounds of the Caspar Beeches at that hour of night? Who were they?
I did not say a word to anyone, but the following night—at the same hour—I again hid amongst the trees, and the same figures passed me. Then I stole out of my lair and followed them.
On quitting the premises they took the high road to Bournemouth, and finally entered a house in the Holdenhurst Road. Making a mental note of the number of the house, I retraced my steps homeward, and early the next morning I sent the following telegram to Vane, who often accompanies me on my expeditions, and to whose quick wits I owe much:
“Have an important case on hand. Meet me this evening entrance to Bournemouth pier 7 p.m.”
After dispatching this telegram I returned to the Beeches, and asked Sir Eldred to show me the rooms in which the three deaths had taken place. I then examined these rooms most minutely, but I could discover nothing in them that could in any way help me to form a theory or even get a suggestion.
“When were the deaths first discovered?” I asked.
“Not until the morning,” Sir Eldred replied, “when the servants, getting no reply to their knocks, became alarmed, and eventually the doors were forced open.”
“And in each case death had taken place in bed?”