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as if to deprive himself of any excuse for his refusal of early rising； had been the first to retire to his room； but； sleepy as he looked； he could not sleep。 He had picked up from a table the book of antiquarian topography； in which Haddow had found his first hints about the origin of the local name； and； being a man with a quiet and quaint capacity for being interested in anything； he began to read it steadily； making notes now and then of details on which his previous reading left him with a certain doubt about his present conclusions。 His room was the one nearest to the lake in the center of the woods； and was therefore the quietest； and none of the last echoes of the evening's festivity could reach him。 He had followed carefully the argument which established the derivation from Mr。 Prior's farm and the hole in the wall； and disposed of any fashionable fancy about monks and magic wells； when he began to be conscious of a noise audible in the frozen silence of the night。 It was not a particularly loud noise； but it seemed to consist of a series of thuds or heavy blows； such as might be struck on a wooden door by a man seeking to enter。 They were followed by something like a faint creak or crack； as if the obstacle had either been opened or had given way。 He opened his own bedroom door and listened； but as he heard talk and laughter all over the lower floors； he had no reason to fear that a summons would be neglected or the house left without protection。 He went to his open window； looking out over the frozen pond and the moonlit statue in the middle of their circle of darkling woods； and listened again。 But silence had returned to that silent place； and； after straining his ears for a considerable time； he could hear nothing but the solitary hoot of a distant departing train。 Then he reminded himself how many nameless noises can be heard by the wakeful during the most ordinary night； and shrugging his shoulders； went wearily to bed。
He awoke suddenly and sat up in bed with his ears filled； as with thunder； with the throbbing echoes of a rending cry。 He remained rigid for a moment； and then sprang out of bed； throwing on the loose gown of sacking he had worn all day。 He went first to the window； which was open； but covered with a thick curtain； so that his room was still completely dark； but when he tossed the curtain aside and put his head out； he saw that a gray and silver daybreak had already appeared behind the black woods that surrounded the little lake； and that was all that he did see。 Though the sound had certainly come in through the open window from this direction； the whole scene was still and empty under the morning light as under the moonlight。 Then the long； rather lackadaisical hand he had laid on a window sill gripped it tighter； as if to master a tremor； and his peering blue eyes grew bleak with fear。 It may seem that his emotion was exaggerated and needless； considering the effort of common sense by which he had conquered his nervousness about the noise on the previous night。 But that had been a very different sort of noise。 It might have been made by half a hundred things； from the chopping of wood to the breaking of bottles。 There was only one thing in nature from which could come the sound that echoed through the dark house at daybreak。 It was the awful articulate voice of man； and it was something worse； for he knew what man。
He knew also that it had been a shout for help。 It seemed to him that he had heard the very word； but the word； short as it was； had been swallowed up； as if the man had been stifled or snatched away even as he spoke。 Only the mocking reverberations of it remained even in his memory； but he had no doubt of the original voice。 He had no doubt that the great bull's voice of Francis Bray； Baron Bulmer； had been heard for the last time between the darkness and the lifting dawn。
How long he stood there he never knew； but he was startled into life by the first living thing that he saw stirring in that half…frozen landscape。 Along the path beside the lake； and immediately under his window； a figure was walking slowly and softly； but with great composurea stately figure in robes of a splendid scarlet； it was the Italian prince； still in his cardinal's costume。 Most of the company had indeed lived in their costumes for the last day or two； and Fisher himself had assumed his frock of sacking as a convenient dressing gown； but there seemed； nevertheless； something unusually finished and formal； in the way of an early bird； about this magnificent red cockatoo。 It was as if the early bird had been up all night。
〃What is the matter？〃 he called； sharply； leaning out of the window； and the Italian turned up his great yellow face like a mask of brass。
〃We had better discuss it downstairs；〃 said Prince Borodino。
Fisher ran downstairs； and encountered the great； red…robed figure entering the doorway and blocking the entrance with his bulk。
〃Did you hear that cry？〃 demanded Fisher。
〃I heard a noise and I came out；〃 answered the diplomatist； and his face was too dark in the shadow for its expression to be read。
〃It was Bulmer's voice；〃 insisted Fisher。 〃I'll swear it was Bulmer's voice。〃
〃Did you know him well？〃 asked the other。
The question seemed irrelevant； though it was not illogical； and Fisher could only answer in a； random fashion that he knew Lord Bulmer only slightly。
〃Nobody seems to have known him well；〃 continued the Italian； in level tones。 〃Nobody except that man Brain。 Brain is rather older than Bulmer； but I fancy they shared a good many secrets。〃
Fisher moved abruptly； as if waking from a momentary trance； and said； in a new and more vigorous voice； 〃But look here； hadn't we better get outside and see if anything has happened。〃
〃The ice seems to be thawing；〃 said the other； almost with indifference。
When they emerged from the house； dark stains and stars in the gray field of ice did indeed indicate that the frost was breaking up； as their host had prophesied the day before； and the very memory of yesterday brought back the mystery of to…day。
〃He knew there would be a thaw；〃 observed the prince。 〃He went out skating quite early on purpose。 Did he call out because he landed in the water； do you think？〃
Fisher looked puzzled。 〃Bulmer was the last man to bellow like that because he got his boots wet。 And that's all he could do here； the water would hardly come up to the calf of a man of his size。 You can see the flat weeds on the floor of the lake； as if it were through a thin pane of glass。 No； if Bulmer had only broken the ice he wouldn't have said much at the moment； though possibly a good deal afterward。 We should have found him stamping and damning up and down this path； and calling for clean boots。〃
〃Let us hope we shall find him as happily employed；〃 remarked the diplomatist。 〃In that case the voice must have come out of the wood。〃
〃I'll swear it didn't come out of the house；〃 said Fisher； and the two disappeared together into the twilight of wintry trees。
The plantation stood dark against the fiery colors of sunrise； a black fringe having that feathery appearance which makes trees when they are bare the very reverse of rugged。 Hours and hours afterward； when the same dense； but delicate； margin was dark against the greenish colors opposite the sunset； the search thus begun at sunrise had not come to an end。 By successive stages； and to slowly gathering groups of the company； it became apparent that the most extraordinary of all gaps had appeared in the party； the guests could find no trace of their host anywhere。 The servants reported that his bed had been slept in and his skates and his fancy costume were gone； as if he had risen early for the purpose he had himself avowed。 But from the top of the house to the bottom； from the walls round the park to the pond in the center； there was no trace of Lord Bulmer； dead or alive。 Horne Fisher realized that a chilling premonition had already prevented him from expecting to find the man alive。 But his bald brow was wrinkled over an entirely new and unnatural problem； in not finding the man at all。
He considered the possibility of Bulmer having gone off of his own accord； for some reason； but after fully weighing it he finally dismissed it。 It was inconsistent with the unmistakable voice heard at daybreak； and with many other practical obstacles。 There was only one gateway in the ancient and lofty wall round the small park； the lodge keeper kept it locked till late in the morning； and the lodge keeper had seen no one pass。 Fisher was fairly sure that he had before him a mathematical problem in an inclosed space。 His instinct had been from the first so attuned to the tragedy that it would have been almost a relief to him to find the corpse。 He would have been grieved； but not horrified； to come on the nobleman's body dangling from one of his own trees as from a gibbet； or floating in his own pool like a pallid weed。 What horrified him was to find nothing。
He soon become conscious that he was not alone even in his most individual and isolated experiments。 He often found a figure following him like his shadow； in silent and almost secret clearings in the plantation or outlying nooks and c