Then, in a sort of trance, I staggered to it, and after a moment's
aimless fumbling, was out in the hall again. I reached the stairhead
in time to see Godfrey try the front door, and then turn along the
lower hall leading to the back of the house. An instant later, a
chorus of frenzied women's shrieks made my hair stand on end.

How I got down the stair I do not know; but I, too, turned back along
the lower hall, expecting any instant to come upon I knew not what
horror; I reached an open door, passed through it, and found myself
in the laundry, in the midst of a group of excited and indignant
women, who greeted my appearance with a fresh series of screams.

Unable to go farther, I sat limply down upon a box and looked at
them.

I dare say the figure I made was ridiculous enough, for the screams
gave place to subdued giggles; but I was far from thinking of my
appearance, or of caring what impression I produced. And I was still
sitting there when Godfrey came back, breathing heavily, chagrin and
anger in his eyes. The employes of the laundry, conscious that
something extraordinary was occurring, crowded about him, but he
elbowed his way through them to the desk where the manager sat.

"A crime has been committed upstairs," he said. "This gentleman with
me is Mr. Simmonds, of the detective bureau," and at the words
Simmonds showed his shield. "We shall have to notify headquarters,"
Godfrey went on, "and I would advise that you keep your girls at
their work. I don't suppose you want to be mixed up in it."

"Sure not," agreed the manager promptly, and while Simmonds went to