"As to the time--I could fix it in this way--the organist was just beginning a voluntary or something of the sort." "That means ten o'clock--to the minute--when he was found!" exclaimed Sackville triumphantly.

"Of course, he'd fallen a minute or two before that--which proves Mr.Folliot to be right.

Now what does that prove?
Why, that the old chap's assailant, whoever he was, dogged him along that gallery as soon as he entered, seized him when he got to the open doorway, and flung him through! Clear as--as noonday!" One of the group, a rather older man than the rest, who was leaning back in a tilted chair, hands in pockets, watching Sackville Bonham smilingly, shook his head and laughed a little.
"You're taking something for granted, Sackie, my son!" he said.

"You're adopting the mason's tale as true.

But I don't believe the poor man was thrown through that doorway at all--not I!" Bryce turned sharply on this speaker--young Archdale, a member of a well-known firm of architects.
"You don't ?" he exclaimed.