"No, I never lit it," Bowers answered. "It was burning up fine when I brought the scuttle in."
Charles strode over to the library, and went in. "Windows been shut all the evening?" he asked.
"No, sir. When I came in I found them just held together. I'll show you, sir." He drew back the bolts, and placed the windows as Peter had left them. "Like that, sir."
"I see. With the bolt holding them together?"
"Yes, sir. I particularly noticed that, because I saw by it that they couldn't have gone out on to the terrace."
"You didn't notice anything else out of the ordinary? Nothing was disturbed?"
"Well, sir, things were a bit untidy, but only in a natural way, if you understand me. Ash trays full, and the paper on the floor, and the cushions a bit squashed. Nothing else, sir."
Celia laid her hand on Charles' arm. "Charles, you don't think anything can have happened to them, do you?" she asked anxiously.
"I hope not, but I don't quite like the sound of it. Can you think of any reason for them wanting to go out at ten o'clock?"
"No,_ I can't. Unless Aunt Lilian's solution is the right one. After all, we never did go up to the chapel by moonlight, and Margaret more than once said she'd like to."