"Jim! Do you see that stone? There. Hold your light steady. It's been moved. Look at the dark stain on this side."
Garth reached over, rolling the stone away. He drew from the water a stout, slender rope and a black cloth. As he raised the cloth a tiny bottle fell from its folds and splintered on the rock.
Nora's eyes sparkled.
"Does it fit, Jim?"
"It suggests a lot," he answered, "and it explains something, but it's little use unless—"
He caught his breath.
"He might be that kind of a fool."
He sprang upright.
"Come along. We've got to turn up something in the house that will make Randall talk. Nora! If there had been letters do you think she would have destroyed them one by one? You see there was no chance after the murder, and don't women cling to such things?"
"She'd probably keep them," Nora said.