glazed door opening on to a narrow corridor. This door was locked.

"Pyne!" whispered Gray, pale now to the lips. "Do you understand,
Seton? It's Pyne! Look! He has been stabbed!"

Sergeant Burton knelt down and gingerly laid his hand upon the stained
linen over the breast of Sir Lucien.

"Dead?" asked the Inspector, speaking from the inner doorway.

"Yes."

"You say, sir," turning to Quentin Gray, "that this is Sir Lucien
Pyne?"

"Yes."

Inspector Whiteleaf rather clumsily removed his cap. The odor of
Seton's cheroot announced itself above the oriental perfume with which
the place was laden.

"Burton!"

"Yes?"

"See if this telephone in the office is in order. It appears to be an
extension from the outer room."

While the others stood grouped about that still figure on the floor,
Sergeant Burton entered the little office.