stranger--but he probably has papers on him."

"There's nothing on him--except a purse, with plenty of money
in it," answered Mitchington. "I've been through his pockets
myself: there isn't a scrap of paper--not even as much as an
old letter. But he's evidently a tourist, or something of the
sort, and so he'll probably have stayed in the city all night,
and I'm going to inquire at the hotels."

"There'll be an inquest, of course," remarked Ransford
mechanically. "Well--we can do nothing, Mitchington. You'd
better have the body removed to the mortuary." He turned and
looked up the broken stairway at the foot of which they were
standing. "You say he fell down that?" he asked. "Whatever
was he doing up there?"

Mitchington looked at Bryce.

"Haven't you told Dr. Ransford how it was?" he asked.

"No," answered Bryce. He glanced at Ransford, indicating
Varner, who had come back with the constable and was standing
by. "He didn't fall," he went on, watching Ransford narrowly.
"He was violently flung out of that doorway. Varner here saw
it."

Ransford's cheek flushed, and he was unable to repress a
slight start. He looked at the mason.

"You actually saw it!" he exclaimed. "Why, what did you see?"