this ranch. When Madden, having shot, remarked,’Shut up and forget. I was afraid and I killed. Now think quick what we had better do,’I would expect first thought is—burial. How else to dispose of dead? So just now I have examined every inch of ground, with highest hope. No good. If burial made, it was not here. I see by your faces you have similar bafflement to report.”
“Haven’t found a thing,” Eden replied.
Chan sighed. “I drag the announcement forth in pain,” he said. “But I now gaze solemnly at stone wall.”
They sat in helpless silence. “Well, let’s not give up yet,” Bob Eden remarked. He leaned back in his chair and blew a ring of smoke toward the paneled ceiling. “By the way, has it ever occurred to you that there must be some sort of attic above this room?”
Chan was instantly on his feet. “Clever suggestion,” he cried. “Attic, yes, but how to ascend?” He stood staring at the ceiling a moment, then went quickly to a large closet in the rear of the room. “Somewhat humiliated situation for me,” he announced. Crowding close beside him in the dim closet, the other two looked aloft at an unmistakable trap-door.
Bob Eden was selected for the climb, and with the aid of a stepladder Chan brought from the barn, he managed it easily. Holley and the detective waited below. For a moment Eden stood in the attic, his head bent low, cobwebs caressing his face, while he sought to accustom his eyes to the faint light.
“Nothing here, I’m afraid,” he called. “Oh, yes, there is. Wait a minute.”
They heard him walking gingerly above, and clouds of dust descended on their heads. Presently he was lowering
