quietly. "I happen to know something about knots; they are quite
a branch of criminal science. Every one of those knots he has
made himself and could loosen himself; not one of them would have been made
by an enemy really trying to pinion him. The whole of this affair
of the ropes is a clever fake, to make us think him the victim of
the struggle instead of the wretched Glass, whose corpse may be hidden
in the garden or stuffed up the chimney."

There was a rather depressed silence; the room was darkening,
the sea-blighted boughs of the garden trees looked leaner and
blacker than ever, yet they seemed to have come nearer to the window.
One could almost fancy they were sea-monsters like krakens or cuttlefish,
writhing polypi who had crawled up from the sea to see the end
of this tragedy, even as he, the villain and victim of it,
the terrible man in the tall hat, had once crawled up from the sea.
For the whole air was dense with the morbidity of blackmail, which is
the most morbid of human things, because it is a crime concealing a crime;
a black plaster on a blacker wound.

The face of the little Catholic priest, which was commonly complacent
and even comic, had suddenly become knotted with a curious frown.
It was not the blank curiosity of his first innocence. It was rather
that creative curiosity which comes when a man has the beginnings of
an idea. "Say it again, please," he said in a simple, bothered manner;
"do you mean that Todhunter can tie himself up all alone and
untie himself all alone?"

"That is what I mean," said the doctor.

"Jerusalem!" ejaculated Brown suddenly, "I wonder if it could