"An accident. I believe a lucky accident. I had cut my bare foot upon
the gravel and the pain awakened me."

"You had no recollection of any dream which had prompted you to go down
into the garden?"

"None whatever."

"Does your room face in that direction?"

"It does not. It faces the lake on the south of the house. I had
descended to a side door, unbarred it, and walked entirely around the
east wing before I awakened."

"Your room faces the lake," murmured Harley.

"Yes."

Their glances met, and in Paul Harley's expression there seemed to be a
challenge.

"You have not yet told me," said he, "the name of your neighbour."

Colonel Menendez lighted his new cigarette.

"Mr. Harley," he confessed, "I regret that I ever referred to this
suspicion of mine. Indeed it is hardly a suspicion, it is what I may
call a desperate doubt. Do you say that, a desperate doubt?"

"I think I follow you," said Harley.