Then, just as Kedsty was recovering sufficiently from the shock of the blow to fight, Marette's companion had killed him.

Horrified, dazed by what had already happened, perhaps unconscious, she had been powerless to prevent the use of a tress of her hair in the murderer's final work.
Kent, in this picture, eliminated the boot-laces and the curtain cords.
He knew that the unusual and the least expected happened frequently in crime.

And Marette's long hair was flowing loose about her.

To use it had simply been the first inspiration of the murderer.

And Kent believed, as he waited for her answer now, that Marette would tell him this.
And as he waited, he felt her fingers tighten in his hand.
"Tell me, Gray Goose--what happened ?" "I--don't--know--Jeems--" His eyes went to her suddenly from the fire, as if he was not quite sure he had heard what she had said.