Maurice looked up gloomily.
“Very well. I’ll give orders to the keepers to patrol the wood and turn every one back. That do?”
“So long as no one sets foot on anything beyond the wood, I’ll be quite satisfied. But it’s important, Maurice. Impress that on your keepers, please.”
Maurice indicated his comprehension with a nod.
“I’ll begin dragging the lakelet up there to-morrow morning,” Sir Clinton added. “Something must have gone into the water to make the splash that was heard; and perhaps we shall find it. I don’t mind any one going down by the lake side. It’s the top of the cliff that I want kept intact.”
He looked at his watch.
“You’re on the ’phone here? I must ring up the police in Hincheldene now and make arrangements for to-morrow. Show me your ’phone, please, Joan. And as I must get some sleep to-night, I’ll say good-bye to the rest of you now. Come along, Ariel. Lead the way.”
CHAPTER VII.
What Was in the Lake
“I was afraid of it,” Sir Clinton observed, as he lifted the dripping pole with which he had been sounding the water of the lakelet. “The net will be no good, Inspector. With these spikes of rock jutting up from the bottom all over the place, you couldn’t get a clean sweep; and if there’s anything here at all, it’s pretty sure to have lodged in one of the cavities between the spikes.”
It was the morning after the masked ball at Ravensthorpe. The Chief Constable had made all his arrangements overnight, so that when he reached the shore of the artificial lake, everything was in readiness. The decrepit raft had been strengthened; a large net had been brought for the purpose of dragging the pool; and several grapnels had been procured, in case the net turned out to be useless. Sir Clinton had gone out on the raft to sound the water and discover whether the net could be utilized; but the results had not been encouraging.