three more gentlemen, one of them a nobleman, and the two
others men of good position and ample means, perished miserably
in the almost precisely the same manner. Lord Swanleigh was
found one morning in his dressing-room, hanging from a peg
affixed to the wall, and Mr. Collier-Stuart and Mr. Herries had
chosen to die as Lord Argentine. There was no explanation in
either case; a few bald facts; a living man in the evening, and
a body with a black swollen face in the morning. The police
had been forced to confess themselves powerless to arrest or to
explain the sordid murders of Whitechapel; but before the
horrible suicides of Piccadilly and Mayfair they were
dumbfoundered, for not even the mere ferocity which did duty as
an explanation of the crimes of the East End, could be of
service in the West. Each of these men who had resolved to die
a tortured shameful death was rich, prosperous, and to all
appearances in love with the world, and not the acutest
research should ferret out any shadow of a lurking motive in
either case. There was a horror in the air, and men looked at
one another's faces when they met, each wondering whether the
other was to be the victim of the fifth nameless tragedy.
Journalists sought in vain for their scrapbooks for materials
whereof to concoct reminiscent articles; and the morning paper
was unfolded in many a house with a feeling of awe; no man knew
when or where the next blow would light.

A short while after the last of these terrible events,
Austin came to see Mr. Villiers. He was curious to know whether
Villiers had succeeded in discovering any fresh traces of Mrs.
Herbert, either through Clarke or by other sources, and he asked
the question soon after he had sat down.