would ever be given to this strange crime.

The result was meagre, and he was just losing himself again in
contemplation of the upturned face, whose fixed mouth and haunting
expression told such a story of suffering and determination, when there
came from the dim recesses above his head a cry, which, forming itself
into two words, rang down with startling clearness in this most
unexpected of appeals:

"Remember Evelyn!"

Remember Evelyn! Who was Evelyn? And to whom did this voice belong, in a
house which had already been ransacked in vain for other occupants? It
seemed to come from the roof, and, sure enough, when Mr. Gryce looked up
he saw, swinging in a cage strung up nearly to the top of one of the
windows I have mentioned, an English starling, which, in seeming
recognition of the attention it had drawn upon itself, craned its neck
as Mr. Gryce looked up, and shrieked again, with fiercer insistence than
before:

"Remember Evelyn!"

It was the last uncanny touch in a series of uncanny experiences. With
an odd sense of nightmare upon him, Mr. Gryce leaned forward on the
study table in his effort to obtain a better view of this bird, when,
without warning, the white light, which since his last contact with the
electrical apparatus had spread itself through the room, changed again
to green, and he realized that he had unintentionally pressed a button
and thus brought into action another slide in the curious lamp over his
head.