They found Petrie and Hammond surrounded by a little knot of villagers, and bearing a hidden burden upon a hastily contrived stretcher. Their faces were white, and rather frightened.
"Sir," broke out Petrie, as the procession came up with Mr. Narkom, "we searched the river by the landing stage, and we found this dead body. Almost naked it was, sir, but it's a woman, and shot through the heart. If you would look for yourself——"
Cleek and Narkom did look for themselves. Here, undoubtedly, was the real Miss Cheyne, robbed of her dress and rings, to clothe the man who had so ably undertaken her part on that night when Cleek and Roberts had been driven forth by him and his accomplices.
Here, too, was the explanation of that ominous sound of a revolver shot which Cleek had heard while he and his innocent charge stood on the threshold of the ill-fated house. If only he had obeyed his first instinct, and driven the girl back to Ailsa Lorne!
The poor old lady had evidently been shot at that moment, and her body thrown into the river directly Cleek had left the room, where his inopportune entry must have caused considerable dismay to the hidden assassin, or assassins. Hidden; but where? That was still a deeper mystery. And through what secret egress had the body disappeared? And why had they not attacked him?
Evidently it was the girl they wanted; the girl and possession of the Cheyne jewels. But how, and where, had they escaped? And what had become of the girl now? These were questions for which there were no answers save those which time would show.
Bidding them take the body on its stretcher down to the village mortuary, Cleek turned on his heel and with a few directions to Mr. Narkom made his way back into the house, once more to wrestle with the problem of its secret entrance and exit.