years.

"But" cried Mr. Sutherland, suddenly rousing, "there is another
victim. I saw old woman Batsy hanging from a window ledge, dead."

"Yes, she is in this other room; but there is no wound on Batsy."

"How was she killed, then?"

"That the doctors must tell us."

Mr. Sutherland, guided by Mr. Fenton's gesture, entered a small
room opening into the one in which they stood. His attention was
at once attracted by the body of the woman he had seen from below,
lying half in and half out of the open window. That she was dead
was evident; but, as Mr. Fenton had said, no wound was to be seen
upon her, nor were there any marks of blood on or about the place
where she lay.

"This is a dreadful business," groaned Mr. Sutherland, "the worst
I have ever had anything to do with. Help me to lift the woman in;
she has been long enough a show for the people outside."

There was a bed in this room (indeed, it was Mrs. Webb's bedroom),
and upon this poor Batsy was laid. As the face came uppermost both
gentlemen started and looked at each other in amazement. The
expression of terror and alarm which it showed was in striking
contrast to the look of exaltation to be seen on the face of her
dead mistress.