bearing a blue diagram of a human bust, marked with figures and
marginal notes, he began to read the report to which it was
appended--that of Dr. Halesowen. It stated that the late Sir Frank
Narcombe had a "horizontal" heart, slightly misplaced and dilatated,
with other details which really threw no light whatever upon the
cause of his death.

"_I_ have a horizontal heart," growled Stuart--"and considering my
consumption of tobacco it is certainly dilatated. But I don't expect
to drop dead in a theatre nevertheless."

He read on, striving to escape from that shadowy apprehension, but as
he read he was listening to the night sounds of London, to the
whirring of distant motors, the whistling of engines upon the railway
and dim hooting of sirens from the Thames. A slight breeze had arisen
and it rustled in the feathery foliage of the acacias and made a
whispering sound as it stirred the leaves of the privet hedge.

The drone of an approaching car reached his ears. Pencil in hand, he
sat listening. The sound grew louder, then ceased. Either the car
had passed or had stopped somewhere near the house. Came a rap on
the door.

"Yes," called Stuart and stood up, conscious of excitement.

Mrs. M'Gregor came in.

"There is nothing further you'll be wanting to-night?" she asked.

"No," said Stuart, strangely disappointed, but smiling at the old