"Then what would you wish to see?" McCoul asked. "There is a fine view from the top, or there are the old dungeons?"
"Anything you care to show me," Gees answered, emerging from the thickness of the wall into the long apartment he had already seen. "I think—well, what about the view from the top."
"Mr. Green"—McCoul faced him, and, as once before, Gees felt and resisted the hypnotic power of the man's eyes—"I don't know if you know that the oafs of this village—and others who should know better as well as the mere clods—attribute to me some part in the things that have happened this summer. The killing of Mr. Tyrrell's sheep, I mean. You, I know, came here to investigate these things, and now you have an opportunity of proving for yourself that there is nothing in this place, nothing and
