There was no other explanation of the presence of a strange man in the kitchen.

For if Peggy was able to walk, she would have watered the horses, she would have met him at the door, as she had always done.
And if the man were there for any good purpose he would have made his presence known to Nyland, and would not have hidden himself in the kitchen, to peer at Nyland through one of the windows.
Nyland was convinced that Peggy had been foully dealt with.

But haste and recklessness would avail Nyland little.

The great mingled rage and anxiety that had seized him demanded instant action, but he fought it down; and when he turned toward the house and began to walk toward the kitchen door, his manner--outwardly--was that of a man who has seen nothing to arouse his suspicions.
Yet despite the appearance of calm he was alert, and every muscle and sinew of his body was tensed for instant action.

And so, when he had approached to within a dozen feet of the kitchen door, and a man's figure darkened the opening, he dove sidewise, drawing his gun as he went down and snapping a shot at the figure he had seen.
So rapid were his movements, and so well timed was his fall, that he was halfway to the ground when the flash came from the doorway.