"Stop, Charles," said Ralph again. "Don't you know that Carr slept with me down at the lodge?"
Charles turned on his brother and gripped his shoulder.
"Do you mean to say," he said, sharply, "that Carr did not sleep in the house last night?"
"Dear me, Charles, that was an oversight on your part," came Sir George's whisper.
"No," replied Ralph, "he did not. The house was full, and we had to put him in that second small room through mine in the lodge. If Carr had been dying to take them he had not the opportunity. He could not have left his room without passing through mine, and I never went to sleep at all. I had a sharp touch of neuralgia from the cold, which kept me awake all night."
"He got out through the window," said Charles.
"Nonsense!" said Ralph, getting visibly angry; "you are only making matters worse by trying to put it on him. Remember the size of the window. Besides, you know how the lodge stands, built against the garden wall. When I came out this morning there was not a single footstep in the snow, except those we had made as we went there the night before. I noticed our footmarks particularly, because I had been afraid there would be more snow. No one could by any possibility have left the house during the night. Even Jones himself had not been out, for there was a little eddy of snow before the back door, and I remember calling to him that he would want his broom."
"The snow clinches the matter, Charles," said Marston, gravely. "You have made a mistake."
"Quite unintentional, I'm sure," whispered Sir George.
There was something I did not like about that whisper. It seemed to imply more than met the ear.