"The ground has undergone a thorough search," said he. "Not a square foot in those woods you see on either side of the road, but has been carefully examined."
"And the houses? I see there are three houses on this road."
"Oh, they are owned by most respectable people--_most_ respectable people," he repeated, with a lingering emphasis that gave me an inward shudder. "I think I had the honor of intimating as much to you a few minutes ago."
I looked at him earnestly, and irresistibly drew a little nearer to him over the diagram.
"Have none of these houses been visited by you?" I asked. "Do you mean to say you have not seen the inside of them all?"
"Oh," he replied, "I have been in them all, of course; but a mystery such as we are investigating is not written upon the walls of parlors or halls."
"You freeze my blood," was my uncharacteristic rejoinder. Somehow the sight of the homes indicated on this diagram seemed to bring me into more intimate sympathy with the affair.
"I told you that this was no vulgar mystery," he declared; "or why should I be considering it with _you_? It is quite worthy of your interest. Do you see that house marked A?"
"Well, that is a decayed mansion of imposing proportions, set in a forest of overgrown shrubbery. The ladies who inhabit it----"
"Ladies!" I put in, with a small shock of horror.
"Young ladies," he explained, "of a refined if not over-prosperous appearance. They are the interesting residue of a family of some repute. Their father was a judge, I believe."
"And do they live there alone," I asked,--"two young ladies in a house so large and in a neighborhood so full of mystery?"
"Oh, they have a brother with them, a lout of no great attractions," he responded carelessly--too carelessly, I thought.
"And who lives in the house marked B?" I now queried.
"A Mr. Trohm. You will remember that it was through his exertions the services of the New York police were secured. His place there is one of the most interesting in town, and he does not wish to be forced to leave it, but he will be obliged to do so if the road is not soon relieved of its bad name; and so will Deacon Spear. The very children shun the road now. I do not know of a lonelier place."
"I see a little mark made here on the verge of the woods. What does that mean?"