"Where is Luke Tunks?" asked the inspector, while Cyril packed the gems in a chamois leather bag which he found in what Granny had called in her trance the portmanteau.
"Gone where you won't get him," grunted Mrs. Tunks, who was holding a glass of brandy to Mrs. Vand's white lips.
"You must get him, Inglis," said Cyril insistently. "He knows all about the murder of Huxham, and has been blackmailing the Vands."
"So that nigger said. By the way, we must see to the bodies." Inglis turned to the door, then looked back at Lister. "I wish I knew what this all meant, sir," he remarked, much puzzled.
"You shall know everything in due time, and a very queer story it is."
The inspector might have gone on asking questions, but at that moment Bella Huxham, breathless and wet, appeared in the doorway. In the semi-darkness she could scarcely see her lover, and called him. "Cyril! Cyril! what has happened?" she panted. "I have run all the way, and—who are these?"
"Inspector Inglis and constables," said that officer. "Where have you come from, miss?"
"From the Manor-house. I went to see my aunt, and saw her run away with her husband. Where is she? Where is he?"
"There is Mrs. Vand," said Cyril, pointing to the still insensible woman, "and her husband is dead in Durgo's arms."
Bella shrieked. "Is Durgo dead?"