Mrs. Brenner's lids flickered. She felt the questioning intentness of Sheriff Munn's eyes on her stolid face and she felt that he did not miss the tremor in her eyes.
She smiled defiance. "I told you, on the beach."
"Whose room is that?" Munn's forefinger pointed to Tobey's closed door.
"The mud tracks go into that room. Did he make those tracks, Mrs. Brenner?"
"No! Oh, no! No!" she cried desperately. "Mart made those when he came in. He went into Tobey's room!"
Mart smiled with an indulgent air. "Heard what she said, didn't you?"
Mart smiled more broadly. "Olga'll take my hair off if I don't agree with her," he said.
Without hesitation Mart lifted one heavy boot and then the other for Munn's inspection. The other silent men leaned forward to examine them.
"Nothing but pieces of seaweed," said Cottrell Hampstead,
Munn eyed them. Then he turned to look at the floor.
"Those are about the size of your tracks, Brenner. But they were made in red clay. How do you account for that?"
Mrs. Brenner gasped. She advanced to Munn.
"What you asking all these questions for?" she pleaded.
Munn did not answer her. After a moment he asked. "Did you hear a scream this afternoon?"
"How long after the screaming did your son come in?"
She hesitated. What was the best answer to make? Bewildered, she tried to decide. "Ten minutes or so," she said.
"Just so," agreed Munn. "Brenner, when did you come in?"
A trace of Mart's sullenness rose in his face. "I told you that once," he said.
She hesitated again. She scented a trap. "Oh, 'bout ten to fifteen minutes, I guess," she said.
Suddenly she burst out passionately. "What you hounding us for? We don't know nothing about the man on the hill. You ain't after the rest of the folks in the village like you are after us. Why you doing it? We ain't done nothing."
Munn made a slight gesture to Roamer, who rose and went to the door, and opened it. He reached out into the darkness. Then he turned. He was holding something in his hand, but Mrs. Brenner could not see what it was.
"You chop your wood with a short, heavy axe, don't you, Brenner?" said Munn.
Mrs. Brenner gave a short, sharp scream. Red and clotted, even the handle marked with bloody spots, the axe was theirs.