with the lock, flung back the portal, and then rushed out in the rain
and drizzle, the fog streaming after mm as he parted the mist like
long, white streamers of ribbon, such as they suspend at the door for
the very young or the aged.

"Hello! Hello!" shouted Darcy into the silent rain and mist of the
early morning street, now deserted save for himself.

The glistening asphalt, the gleaming trolley rails, the dark and damp
buildings seemed to echo back his words.

"Hello! Hello!"

"Police!" voiced James Darcy. "There's been a murder!"

"A murder!" echoed the mist.

There was silence after this, and Darcy looked up and down the street.
Not a person--not a vehicle--was in sight. No one looked from the
stores or houses on either side or across from the jewelry shop.

Then a rattling milk wagon swung around the corner. It was followed by
another.

"Hello! Hello! there--you!" called Darcy hoarsely.

"What's the matter?" asked the first man, as he swung down from his
vehicle with a wire carrier filled with bottles in his hand.

"Somebody's been hurt--killed--a relative of mine! I want to tell the