in the centre which could be closed by means of another of the sliding
doors. A space some five feet deep was thus walled off from this
second room. It contained a massive ebony chair. Behind the chair, and
dividing the second room into yet a third section, extended another
wooden partition in one end of which was an ordinary office door; and
immediately at the back of the chair appeared a little opening or
window, some three feet up from the floor. The sound of a groan,
followed by that of a dull thud, came from the outer room.

"Hullo!" cried Inspector Whiteleaf. "Mr. Irvin has fainted. Lend a
hand."

"I am here," replied the quiet voice of Seton Pasha.

"My God!" whispered Gray. "Seton! Seton!"

"Touch nothing," cried the Inspector from outside, "until I come!"

And now the narrow apartment became filled with all the awe-stricken
company, only excepting Monte Irvin, and Brisley, who was attending to
the swooning man.

Flat upon the floor, between the door and the ebony chair, arms
extended and eyes staring upward at the ceiling, lay Sir Lucien Pyne,
his white shirt front redly dyed. In the hush which had fallen, the
footsteps of Inspector Whiteleaf sounded loudly as he opened the final
door, and swept the interior of an inner room with the rays of the
lantern.

The room was barely furnished as an office. There was another half-