"Look!" exclaimed Varner, suddenly pointing. "He's stirring!"

Bryce, whose gaze was fastened on the twisted figure, saw a
slight movement which relaxed as suddenly as it had occurred.
Then came stillness. "That's the end!" he muttered. "The
man's dead! I'll guarantee that before I put a hand on him.
Dead enough!" he went on, as he reached the body and dropped
on one knee by it. "His neck's broken."

The mason bent down and looked, half-curiously,
half-fearfully, at the dead man. Then he glanced upward--at
the open door high above them in the walls.

"It's a fearful drop, that, sir," he said. "And he came down
with such violence. You're sure it's over with him?"

"He died just as we came up," answered Bryce. "That movement
we saw was the last effort--involuntary, of course. Look
here, Varner!--you'll have to get help. You'd better fetch
some of the cathedral people--some of the vergers. No!" he
broke off suddenly, as the low strains of an organ came from
within the great building. "They're just beginning the
morning service--of course, it's ten o'clock. Never mind
them--go straight to the police. Bring them back--I'll stay
here."

The mason turned off towards the gateway of the Close, and
while the strains of the organ grew louder, Bryce bent over
the dead man, wondering what had really happened. Thrown from
an open doorway in the clerestory over St. Wrytha's Stair?--it