Godfrey laughed a little mocking laugh.

"Grady foresees his Waterloo!" he said. "Well, it's not far distant.
But I'm glad for your sake, Simmonds--you're going to get some glory
out of this thing, yet!"

"I hope so," and Simmonds's eyes gleamed an instant. "The ambulance
will be around at once," he added. "We'd better get our shoes on, and
go back upstairs, and see if anything can be done for that fellow."

"There can't anything be done for him," said Godfrey wearily; "but
we'd better have a look at him, I guess," and he led the way out into
the hall.

Not until Simmonds spoke did I remember that I was shoeless. Now I
sat down beside Godfrey, got fumblingly into my shoes again, and then
followed him and Simmonds slowly up the stair.

I thought I knew what was passing in Godfrey's mind: he was blaming
himself for this latest tragedy; he was telling himself that he
should have foreseen and prevented it; he always blamed himself in
that way when things went wrong--and then, to have the murderer slip
through his very fingers! I could guess what a mighty shock that had
been to his self-confidence!

The latest victim was lying where he had fallen, just inside the
doorway leading into the inner room. Simmonds stepped to the window,
threw open the shutters, and let a flood of afternoon sunshine into
the room. Then he knelt beside the body, and held up the limp right