y　above　them。　　At　first　he　thought　he　must　have　fancied　it　or　been　mocked　by　a　mere　echo　of　his　own　tramp。　　But　as　he　went　on　he　was　more　and　more　inclined　to　conclude；　with　the　remains　of　his　reason；　that　there　really　were　other　feet　upon　the　road。　　He　thought　hazily　of　ghosts；　and　was　surprised　how　swiftly　he　could　see　the　image　of　an　appropriate　and　local　ghost；　one　with　a　face　as　white　as　Pierrot's；　but　patched　with　black。　　The　apex　of　the　triangle　of　dark…blue　sky　was　growing　brighter　and　bluer；　but　he　did　not　realize　as　yet　that　this　was　because　he　was　coming　nearer　to　the　lights　of　the　great　house　and　garden。　　He　only　felt　that　the　atmosphere　was　growing　more　intense；　there　was　in　the　sadness　more　violence　and　secrecymorehe　hesitated　for　the　word；　and　then　said　it　with　a　jerk　of　laughterCatastrophism。
  More　pines；　more　pathway　slid　past　him；　and　then　he　stood　rooted　as　by　a　blast　of　magic。　　It　is　vain　to　say　that　he　felt　as　if　he　had　got　into　a　dream；　but　this　time　he　felt　quite　certain　that　he　had　got　into　a　book。　　For　we　human　beings　are　used　to　inappropriate　things；　we　are　accustomed　to　the　clatter　of　the　incongruous；　it　is　a　tune　to　which　we　can　go　to　sleep。　　If　one　appropriate　thing　happens；　it　wakes　us　up　like　the　pang　of　a　perfect　chord。　　Something　happened　such　as　would　have　happened　in　such　a　place　in　a　forgotten　tale。
  Over　the　black　pine…wood　came　flying　and　flashing　in　the　moon　a　naked　swordsuch　a　slender　and　sparkling　rapier　as　may　have　fought　many　an　unjust　duel　in　that　ancient　park。　　It　fell　on　the　pathway　far　in　front　of　him　and　lay　there　glistening　like　a　large　needle。　　He　ran　like　a　hare　and　bent　to　look　at　it。　　Seen　at　close　quarters　it　had　rather　a　showy　look：　　the　big　red　jewels　in　the　hilt　and　guard　were　a　little　dubious。　　But　there　were　other　red　drops　upon　the　blade　which　were　not　dubious。
  He　looked　round　wildly　in　the　direction　from　which　the　dazzling　missile　had　come；　and　saw　that　at　this　point　the　sable　facade　of　fir　and　pine　was　interrupted　by　a　smaller　road　at　right　angles；　which；　when　he　turned　it；　brought　him　in　full　view　of　the　long；　lighted　house；　with　a　lake　and　fountains　in　front　of　it。　　Nevertheless；　he　did　not　look　at　this；　having　something　more　interesting　to　look　at
  Above　him；　at　the　angle　of　the　steep　green　bank　of　the　terraced　garden；　was　one　of　those　small　picturesque　surprises　common　in　the　old　landscape　gardening；　a　kind　of　small　round　hill　or　dome　of　grass；　like　a　giant　mole…hill；　ringed　and　crowned　with　three　concentric　fences　of　roses；　and　having　a　sundial　in　the　highest　point　in　the　centre。　　Kidd　could　see　the　finger　of　the　dial　stand　up　dark　against　the　sky　like　the　dorsal　fin　of　a　shark　and　the　vain　moonlight　clinging　to　that　idle　clock。　　But　he　saw　something　else　clinging　to　it　also；　for　one　wild　momentthe　figure　of　a　man。
  Though　he　saw　it　there　only　for　a　moment；　though　it　was　outlandish　and　incredible　in　costume；　being　clad　from　neck　to　heel　in　tight　crimson；　with　glints　of　gold；　yet　he　knew　in　one　flash　of　moonlight　who　it　was。　　That　white　face　flung　up　to　heaven；　clean…shaven　and　so　unnaturally　young；　like　Byron　with　a　Roman　nose；　those　black　curls　already　grizzled　he　had　seen　the　thousand　public　portraits　of　Sir　Claude　Champion。　　The　wild　red　figure　reeled　an　instant　against　the　sundial；　the　next　it　had　rolled　down　the　steep　bank　and　lay　at　the　American's　feet；　faintly　moving　one　arm。　　A　gaudy；　unnatural　gold　ornament　on　the　arm　suddenly　reminded　Kidd　of　Romeo　and　Juliet；　of　course　the　tight　crimson　suit　was　part　of　the　play。　　But　there　was　a　long　red　stain　down　the　bank　from　which　the　man　had　rolledthat　was　no　part　of　the　play。　　He　had　been　run　through　the　body。
  Mr　Calhoun　Kidd　shouted　and　shouted　again。　　Once　more　he　seemed　to　hear　phantasmal　footsteps；　and　started　to　find　another　figure　already　near　him。　　He　knew　the　figure；　and　yet　it　terrified　him。　　The　dissipated　youth　who　had　called　himself　Dalroy　had　a　horribly　quiet　way　with　him；　if　Boulnois　failed　to　keep　appointments　that　had　been　made；　Dalroy　had　a　sinister　air　of　keeping　appointments　that　hadn't。　　The　moonlight　discoloured　everything；　against　Dalroy's　red　hair　his　wan　face　looked　not　so　much　white　as　pale　green。
  All　this　morbid　impressionism　must　be　Kidd's　excuse　for　having　cried　out；　brutally　and　beyond　all　reason：　　〃Did　you　do　this；　you　devil？〃
  James　Dalroy　smiled　his　unpleasing　smile；　but　before　he　could　speak；　the　fallen　figure　made　another　movement　of　the　arm；　waving　vaguely　towards　the　place　where　the　sword　fell；　then　came　a　moan；　and　then　it　managed　to　speak。
  〃Boulnois。。。。　　Boulnois；　I　say。。。。　　Boulnois　did　it。。。　jealous　of　me。。。he　was　jealous；　he　was；　he　was。。。〃
  Kidd　bent　his　head　down　to　hear　more；　and　just　managed　to　catch　the　words：
  〃Boulnois。。。with　my　own　sword。。。he　threw　it。。。〃
  Again　the　failing　hand　waved　towards　the　sword；　and　then　fell　rigid　with　a　thud。　　In　Kidd　rose　from　its　depth　all　that　acrid　humour　that　is　the　strange　salt　of　the　seriousness　of　his　race。
  〃See　here；〃　he　said　sharply　and　with　command；　〃you　must　fetch　a　doctor。　　This　man's　dead。〃
  〃And　a　priest；　too；　I　suppose；〃　said　Dalroy　in　an　undecipherable　manner。　　〃All　these　Champions　are　papists。〃
  The　American　knelt　down　by　the　body；　felt　the　heart；　propped　up　the　head　and　used　some　last　efforts　at　restoration；　but　before　the　other　journalist　reappeared；　followed　by　a　doctor　and　a　priest；　he　was　already　prepared　to　assert　they　were　too　late。
  〃Were　you　too　late　also？〃　asked　the　doctor；　a　solid　prosperous…looking　man；　with　conventional　moustache　and　whiskers；　but　a　lively　eye；　which　darted　over　Kidd　dubiously。
  〃In　one　sense；〃　drawled　the　representative　of　the　Sun。　　〃I　was　too　late　to　save　the　man；　but　I　guess　I　was　in　time　to　hear　something　of　importance。　　I　heard　the　dead　man　denounce　his　assassin。〃
  〃And　who　was　the　assassin？〃　asked　the　doctor；　drawing　his　eyebrows　together。
  〃Boulnois；〃　said　Calhoun　Kidd；　and　whistled　softly。
  The　doctor　stared　at　him　gloomily　with　a　reddening　brow；　but　he　did　not　contradict。　　Then　the　priest；　a　shorter　figure　in　the　background；　said　mildly：　　〃I　understood　that　Mr　Boulnois　was　not　coming　to　Pendragon　Park　this　evening。〃
  〃There　again；〃　said　the　Yankee　grimly；　〃I　may　be　in　a　position　to　give　the　old　country　a　fact　or　two。　　Yes；　sir；　John　Boulnois　was　going　to　stay　in　all　this　evening；　he　fixed　up　a　real　good　appointment　there　with　me。　　But　John　Boulnois　changed　his　mind；　John　Boulnois　left　his　home　abruptly　and　all　alone；　and　came　over　to　this　darned　Park　an　hour　or　so　ago。　　His　butler　told　me　so。　　I　think　we　hold　what　the　all…wise　police　call　a　cluehave　you　sent　for　them？〃
  〃Yes；〃　said　the　doctor；　〃but　we　haven't　alarmed　anyone　else　yet。〃
  〃Does　Mrs　Boulnois　know？〃　asked　James　Dalroy；　and　again　Kidd　was　conscious　of　an　irrational　desire　to　hit　him　on　his　curling　mouth。
  〃I　have　not　told　her；〃　said　the　doctor　gruffly；　〃but　here　come　the　police。〃
  The　little　priest　had　stepped　out　into　the　main　avenue；　and　now　returned　with　the　fallen　sword；　which　looked　ludicrously　large　and　theatrical　when　attached　to　his　dumpy　figure；　at　once　clerical　and　commonplace。　　〃Just　before　the　police　come；〃　he　said　apologetically；　〃has　anyone　got　a　light？〃
  The　Yankee　journalist　took　an　electric　torch　from　his　pocket；　and　the　priest　held　it　close　to　the　middle　part　of　the　blade；　which　he　examined　with　blinking　care。　　Then；　without　glancing　at　the　point　or　pommel；　he　handed　the　long　weapon　to　the　doctor。
  〃I　fear　I'm　no　use　here；〃　he　said；　with　a　brief　sigh。　　〃I'll　say　good　night　to　you；　gentlemen。〃　And　he　walked　away　up　the　dark　avenue　towards　the　house；　his　hands　clasped　behind　him　and　his　big　head　bent　in　cogitation。
  The　rest　of　the　group　made　increased　haste　towards　the　lodge…gates；　where　an　inspector　and　two　constables　could　already　be　seen　in　consultation　with　the　lodge…keeper。　　But　the　little　priest　only　walked　slower　and　slower　in　the　dim　cloister　of　pine；　and　at　last　stopped　dead；　on　the　steps　of　the　house。　　It　was　his　silent　way　of　acknowledging　an　equally　silent　approach；　for　there　came　towards　him　a　presence　that　might　have　satisfied　even　Calhoun　Kidd's　demands　for　a　lovely　and　aristocratic　ghost。　　It　was　a　young　woman　in　silvery　satins　of　a　Renascence　design；　she　had　golden　hair　in　two　long　shining　ropes；　and　a　face　so　startingly　pale　between　them　that　she　might　have　been　chryselephantinemade；　that　is；　like　some　old　Greek　statues；　out　of　ivory　and　gold。　　But　her　eyes　were　very　bright；　and　her　voice；　though　low；　was　confident。
  〃Father　Brown？〃　she　said。
  〃Mrs　Boulnois？〃　he　replied　gravely。　　Then　he　looked　at　her　and　immediately　said：　　〃I　see　you　know　about　Sir　Claude。〃
  〃How　do　you　know　I　know？〃　she　asked　steadily。
  He　did　not　answer　the　question；　but　asked　another：　　〃Have　you　seen　your　husband？〃
  〃My　husband　is　at　home；〃　she　said。　　〃He　has　nothing　to　do　with　this。〃
  Again　he　did　not　answer；　and　the　woman　drew　nearer　to　him；　with　a　curiously　intense　expression　on　her　face。
  〃Shall　I　tell　you　something　more？〃　she　said；　with　a　rather　fearful　smile。　　〃I　don't　think