"Oh, this is all nonsense," he said, "but we'd better go out and see."

"I won't go," said Horne with sudden violence. "I'll never walk by that path again."

"I think we must all walk by that path to-night," said the priest gravely, "though I will never deny it has been a perilous path . . . to more people than one."

"I will not . . . God, how you all goad me," cried Horne, and his eyes began to roll in a strange fashion. He had risen with the rest, hut he made no motion towards the door.

"Mr. Horne," said Nares firmly, "I am a police-officer, and this house, though you may not know it, is surrounded by the police. I have tried to investigate in a friendly fashion, but I must investigate everything, even anything so silly as a ghost. I must ask you to take me to the spot you speak of."

There was another silence while Horne stood heaving and panting as with indescribable fears. Then he suddenly sat down on his chair again and said with an entirely new and much more composed voice:

"I can't do it. You may just as well know why. You will know it sooner or later. I killed him."

For an instant there was the stillness of a house struck by a thunderbolt and full of corpses. Then the voice of Father Brown sounded in that enor-