halted, panting.

"What is it, Varner?" asked Bryce calmly. "Something
happened?"

The man swept his hand across his forehead as if he were
dazed, and then jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

"A man!" he gasped. "Foot of St. Wrytha's Stair there,
doctor. Dead--or if not dead, near it. I saw it!"

Bryce seized Varner's arm and gave it a shake.

"You saw--what?" he demanded.

"Saw him--fall. Or rather--flung!" panted Varner.
"Somebody--couldn't see who, nohow--flung him right through
yon doorway, up there. He fell right over the steps--crash!"
Bryce looked over the tops of the yews and cypresses at the
doorway in the clerestory to which Varner pointed--a low, open
archway gained by the half-ruinous stair. It was forty feet
at least from the ground.

"You saw him--thrown!" he exclaimed. "Thrown--down there?
Impossible, man!"

"Tell you I saw it!" asserted Varner doggedly. "I was looking
at one of those old tombs yonder--somebody wants some repairs
doing--and the jackdaws were making such a to-do up there by
the roof I glanced up at them. And I saw this man thrown