as he had opened it. And Allerdyke, turning back to his cousin's room,
mechanically laid his hand on the knob and screwed it round.

The door was open.

Allerdyke drew a sharp breath as he crossed the threshold. He had stayed
in that hotel often, and he knew where the switch of the electric light
should be. He lifted a hand, found the switch, and turned the light on.
And as it flooded the room, he pulled himself up to a tense rigidity.
There, sitting fully dressed in an easy chair, against which his head was
thrown back, was his cousin--unmistakably dead.




CHAPTER II

THE DEAD MAN


For a full minute Marshall Allerdyke stood fixed--staring at the set
features before him. Then, with a quick catching of his breath, he made
one step to his cousin's side and laid his hand on the unyielding
shoulder. The affectionate, familiar terms in which they had always
addressed each other sprang involuntarily to his lips.

"Why, James, my lad!" he exclaimed. "James, lad! James!"

Even as he spoke, he knew that James would never hear word or sound again
in this world. It needed no more than one glance at the rigid features,