LITMIR.BIZ

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holding his pulse, shook his head ominously.

      Within a couple of minutes Janet returned with a policeman. He and Oldland exchanged nods of mutual recognition. ‘This young lady asked me to come along, sir …’ he began.

      ‘Yes, that’s right, Carling.’ Oldland cut in curtly. ‘Poor fellow. Taken ill. I want to get him on to the sofa next door. You take his shoulders, and I’ll take his legs. That’s right.’

      The two men carried Victor Harleston into the sitting-room, Janet following them. The unconscious man having been deposited on the sofa, the policeman turned to go. But Oldland detained him. ‘Don’t run away for a moment’ he said. ‘I may want you to help me move him again presently. Miss Harleston, I want you to run over to my house again. When the parlourmaid opens the door, ask her to give you the small black case which is lying on the mantelpiece in the surgery. The black one, mind, not the red. And bring it back here as soon as you can.’

      For the second time she ran off, and Oldland listened to her footsteps as they descended the front steps. As though to satisfy himself of her departure, he went to the front door and watched her till she disappeared round the corner of Matfield Street. Then he came back to the policeman. ‘Your turn to run errands, now, Carling,’ he said. ‘There’s no telephone in this house, that I can see. Slip round to the nearest box, and ring up Scotland Yard. Ask for Superintendent Hanslet. He knows me well enough. And tell him that there’s a job waiting for him here. I’ll stop in the house until he comes, or sends somebody else. Got that?’

      ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Carling. ‘Will you want me again?’

      Oldland shook his head. ‘Neither you nor I can do any more for this poor chap. He’ll be dead within the next few minutes.’

      Left alone with his patient, Oldland’s expression changed. His usual rather cynical smile gave place to a look of sterness such as few of his friends had seen. He picked up the inert wrist once more, and remained holding it until the irregular pulse had fluttered into lifelessness. Then, with a sharp sigh, he composed the body in a natural attitude, and stood for a moment looking at it as though he half expected the departing soul to reveal its secret. At last he shrugged his shoulders, and abruptly left the room.

      He had already taken in the arrangement of the house. Two doors opened off the hall. The one nearest the front was that of the sitting-room, into which Victor Harleston had been carried. The second door was ajar, revealing a table laid for breakfast. Evidently the dining-room. At the end of the hall was a flight of steps leading downwards to the basement, and another flight leading upwards to the first floor. Oldland hesitated for a moment, then walked into the dining-room.

      It was adequately furnished with objects of a peculiarly ugly type. A heavy, clumsy looking table stood in the middle of the floor, which was covered with a rather worn carpet. On the table was spread a white cloth, apparently fresh from the wash. The room contained a set of dining-room chairs, two of which had been drawn up to the table. One of these had been overturned, and lay on its side. The other, on the opposite side of the table, seemed to have been pushed back hurriedly.

      Oldland inspected the preparations for breakfast, being careful, however, to touch nothing. In front of the overturned chair was a respectable meal. A couple of fried eggs and two rashers of bacon on a plate. These had not been touched, and were now cold and greasy. The knife and fork lying beside the plate were not soiled. A second plate, on which was a piece of toast, broken in half, but otherwise untouched, and a pat of butter. A cup, which had evidently been drunk from, empty but for some dregs of coffee at the bottom.

      The meal laid at the other side of the table was more modest. No eggs and bacon, merely a plate with toast and butter, some of which seemed to have been eaten. A cup of coffee, full and untouched. At this end of the table stood a coffee-pot. Oldland, anxious to disturb nothing, did not lift the lid. Beside it stood a jug, about a third full of milk which had once been hot. In the centre of the table was a toast-rack, with four pieces of toast still in it. There was also a butter dish, with a few pats of butter, and a cruet with salt, pepper, and mustard.

      At one end of the room was a recess, with a window looking out at the back of the house, over an unkempt patch of garden. In this recess was a roll-top desk, with the top closed. Oldland noticed that the key was in the lock. This key was on a ring with three others of various kinds. Two of these were Yale keys.

      Oldland, who had quick ears, heard the sound of hurried footsteps on the pavement. He returned to the hall, in time to confront Janet Harleston as she entered the house. ‘I’m sorry, Doctor,’ she said breathlessly. ‘But the parlourmaid said she couldn’t find the black case anywhere.’

      ‘No, I’m afraid you had your trouble for nothing. Miss Harleston,’ Oldland replied. ‘It was in my bag all the time. I found it just after you had gone.’

      ‘Oh, I’m so glad!’ she exclaimed. ‘How’s poor Victor? Is he any better?’

      ‘I’m sorry to say that your brother is dead, Miss Harleston,’ replied Oldland, with what seemed cruel curtness.

      But amazement, rather than grief, appeared to be the effect caused by this bold statement. ‘Dead!’ she exclaimed incredulously. ‘But he was perfectly well when I took him his tea at half-past seven.’

      ‘That may be, Miss Harleston. You understand that, under the circumstances, I cannot give a death certificate, and that I shall have to communicate with the coroner?’

      She shook her head helplessly. ‘I don’t know anything about these things, Doctor. Does that mean there’ll be an inquest?’

      ‘I’m afraid so. In any case, arrangements will have to be made to take the body to the mortuary. Have you any other relations alive, Miss Harleston?’

      ‘My mother and father are dead. But I have another brother. Philip, who lives in Kent. He’s my real brother, a year older than I am. He was here to supper yesterday evening. I’d better send him a wire to come up at once, hadn’t I?’

      ‘Plenty of time, plenty of time’ replied Oldland absently. He glanced at his watch. Past nine o’clock! His car and chauffeur would be waiting for him. He had a long round of visits to pay that morning. But he couldn’t leave this sinister house, yet. It was a damnable nuisance. ‘What was your brother’s occupation?’ he asked abruptly, more for the sake of continuing the conversation, than because he felt any interest in the matter.

      ‘He was a clerk in an accountant’s office. Slater & Knott is the name of the firm. Their offices are in Chancery Lane. Victor had been with them for years.’

      ‘Had he many friends in London?’

      She shook her head. ‘No, Victor wasn’t the sort to make friends. He … Oh!’

      Janet Harleston broke off with a sudden exclamation. She seemed suddenly to have remembered something, and Oldland glanced at her with a faint renewal of interest. ‘You were going to say?’ he suggested.

      ‘I was going to say that as far as I know, he hadn’t any friends, and then I remembered the man at the door, when I went to fetch you. I’ve been so upset, that I never thought of him again until this moment.’

      Oldland might have pursued the subject, but at that moment the door bell rang insistently. ‘I’ll answer it,’ he said. ‘I expect it’s somebody for me.’ He walked swiftly to the door and opened it. On the threshold stood Superintendent Hanslet himself. ‘Morning, Doctor!’ he exclaimed cheerfully. ‘What’s the matter here?’

      Oldland made no reply, but drew him inside and propelled him into the sitting-room. Janet, motionless in the hall, watched them with wide-open, frightened eyes, but said nothing. It was not until he and Hanslet were standing together in front of the sofa that Oldland spoke. ‘That’s what’s the matter,’ he said curtly.

      Hanslet took a step forward, and bent over the body. ‘Dead?’ he asked.

      ‘Dead,’ replied Oldland grimly. ‘I was called in, and reached here at five-and-twenty minutes to nine. The man was then alive,

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