"Then where is she now?"
"She must have gone out early this morning, sir, for I haven't seen her all day. I wanted to be fair. I've only been waiting for her to come back so I could tell her I was leaving."
"Send McDonald back to me," Garth said, "unless he's left the house, too."
The butler had deliberately lied to shield his daughter, and had asked secrecy of this girl. And all this talk of spirits and of cries! It was turning out an interesting case after all—possibly an abnormal one. Moreover, he was getting somewheres with it.
McDonald slipped in. He was more agitated than before. His face was distorted. His tongue moistened his lips thirstily. Against his will Garth applied the method he knew would bring the quickest result with such a man. He grasped the stooped shoulders. He shouted:
"Why did you lie when I asked you who was in the house at the time of the murder?"
"Eh? Eh?" the old man quavered.
"You're not as deaf as that. Where's your daughter now?"
"My ears!" the old servant whined. "I can't hear, sir."
"All right," Garth shouted. "If you want to go to the lockup and your daughter too, stay as deaf as you please."