LITMIR.BIZ

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the cook and housemaid.

      “There has been an unfortunate accident,” he said--“but not to your

      master; you need not be afraid. But be good enough to remain in the

      kitchen for the present.”

      Peeping in furtively as they passed, the two women crossed the lobby and

      went to their own quarters.

      “Mr. Soames next,” muttered Dunbar, and, glancing at Cumberly as he

      returned from the lobby:--“Will you ring for him?” he requested.

      Dr. Cumberly nodded, and pressed a bell beside the mantelpiece. An

      interval followed, in which the inspector made notes and Cumberly stood

      looking at Leroux, who was beating his palms upon his knees, and staring

      unseeingly before him.

      Cumberly rang again; and in response to the second ring, the housemaid

      appeared at the door.

      “I rang for Soames,” said Dr. Cumberly.

      “He is not in, sir,” answered the girl.

      Inspector Dunbar started as though he had been bitten.

      “What!” he cried; “not in?”

      “No, sir,” said the girl, with wide-open, frightened eyes.

      Dunbar turned to Cumberly.

      “You said there was no other way out!”

      “There IS no other way, to my knowledge.”

      “Where's his room?”

      Cumberly led the way to a room at the end of a short corridor, and

      Inspector Dunbar, entering, and turning up the light, glanced about

      the little apartment. It was a very neat servants' bedroom; with

      comfortable, quite simple, furniture; but the chest-of-drawers had

      been hastily ransacked, and the contents of a trunk--or some of its

      contents--lay strewn about the floor.

      “He has packed his grip!” came Leroux's voice from the doorway. “It's

      gone!”

      The window was wide open. Dunbar sprang forward and leaned out over the

      ledge, looking to right and left, above and below.

      A sort of square courtyard was beneath, and for the convenience of

      tradesmen, a hand-lift was constructed outside the kitchens of the three

      flats comprising the house; i. e.:--Mr. Exel's, ground floor, Henry

      Leroux's second floor, and Dr. Cumberly's, top. It worked in a skeleton

      shaft which passed close to the left of Soames' window.

      For an active man, this was a good enough ladder, and the inspector

      withdrew his head shrugging his square shoulders, irritably.

      “My fault entirely!” he muttered, biting his wiry mustache. “I should

      have come and seen for myself if there was another way out.”

      Leroux, in a new flutter of excitement, now craned from the window.

      “It might be possible to climb down the shaft,” he cried, after a brief

      survey, “but not if one were carrying a heavy grip, such as that which

      he has taken!”

      “H'm!” said Dunbar. “You are a writing gentleman, I understand, and yet

      it does not occur to you that he could have lowered the bag on a cord,

      if he wanted to avoid the noise of dropping it!”

      “Yes--er--of course!” muttered Leroux. “But really--but really--oh, good

      God! I am bewildered! What in Heaven's name does it all mean!”

      “It means trouble,” replied Dunbar, grimly; “bad trouble.”

      They returned to the study, and Inspector Dunbar, for the first time

      since his arrival, walked across and examined the fragmentary message,

      raising his eyebrows when he discovered that it was written upon the

      same paper as Leroux's MSS. He glanced, too, at the pen lying on a page

      of “Martin Zeda” near the lamp and at the inky splash which told how

      hastily the pen had been dropped.

      Then--his brows drawn together--he stooped to the body of the murdered

      woman. Partially raising the fur cloak, he suppressed a gasp of

      astonishment.

      “Why! she only wears a silk night-dress, and a pair of suede slippers!”

      He glanced back over his shoulder.

      “I had noted that,” said Cumberly. “The whole business is utterly

      extraordinary.”

      “Extraordinary is no word for it!” growled the inspector, pursuing his

      examination.... “Marks of pressure at the throat--yes; and generally

      unhealthy appearance.”

      “Due to the drug habit,” interjected Dr. Cumberly.

      “What drug?”

      “I should not like to say out of hand; possibly morphine.”

      “No jewelry,” continued the detective, musingly; “wedding ring--not a

      new one. Finger nails well cared for, but recently neglected. Hair dyed

      to hide gray patches; dye wanted renewing. Shoes, French. Night-robe,

      silk; good lace; probably French, also. Faint perfume--don't know what

      it is--apparently proceeding from civet fur. Furs, magnificent; very

      costly.”...

      He slightly moved the table-lamp in order to direct its light upon

      the white face. The bloodless lips were parted and the detective bent,

      closely peering at the teeth thus revealed.

      “Her teeth were oddly discolored, doctor,” he said, taking out a

      magnifying glass and examining them closely. “They had been recently

      scaled, too; so that she was not in the habit of neglecting them.”

      Dr. Cumberly nodded.

      “The drug habit, again,” he said guardedly; “a proper examination will

      establish the full facts.”

      The inspector added brief notes to those already made, ere he rose from

      beside the body. Then:--

      “You are absolutely certain,” he said, deliberately, facing Leroux,

      “that you had never set eyes on this woman prior to her coming here,

      to-night?”

      “I can swear it!” said Leroux.

      “Good!” replied the detective, and closed his notebook with a snap.

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