The Second Confesion

We were about twenty paces from the drive when I flashed my light to the left and caught a glimpse of an object on the ground by a bush that stopped me. The one glimpse was enough to show me what it was-there was no doubt about that-but not who it was. Madeline, ahead of me, was calling Gwenn's name. I stood. Then she called to me, “You coming?” and I called back that I was and started forward. I was opening my mouth to tell her that I was taking time out and would be with her in a minute, when she called Gwenn's name again, and an answer came faintly through the trees in the night. It was Gwenn's voice.

“Yes, Mad, I'm here!” So I had to postpone a closer inspection of the object behind the bush. Madeline had let out a little cry of relief and was tearing ahead, and I followed. I got tangled in a thicket before I knew it and had to fight my way out, and nearly slid into the brook; then I was in the clear again, headed towards voices, and soon my light picked them up at the far side of an open space. I crossed to them.

“What's all the furore?” Gwenn was asking her sister. “Good Lord, I came outdoors on a summer night, so what? That's been known to happen before, hasn't it? You even brought a detective along!” “This isn't just a summer night,” Madeline said shortly, “and you know darned well it isn't. How did I know-anyway, you haven't even got a jacket on.” “I know I haven't. What time is it?” I aimed the light at my wrist and told her. “Five past eleven.” “Then he didn't come on that train either.” “Who didn't?” Madeline asked.