gaping mouth and staring eyes.

"Show us Dr. Fenwick's room. You had better put up, sir, whatever things
you have brought here. I will go upstairs with you," he whispered again.
"Come, Dr. Fenwick, I am in the discharge of my duty."

Something in the man's manner was so sinister and menacing that I felt at
once that some new and strange calamity had befallen me. I turned towards
Strahan. He was at the threshold, speaking in a low voice to the
subordinate policeman, and there was an expression of amazement and horror
in his countenance. As I came towards him he darted away without a word.

I went up the stairs, entered my bedroom, the superintendent close behind
me. As I took up mechanically the few things I had brought with me, the
police-officer drew them from me with an abruptness that appeared
insolent, and deliberately searched the pockets of the coat which I had
worn the evening before, then opened the drawers in the room, and even
pried into the bed.

"What do you mean?" I asked haughtily.

"Excuse me, sir. Duty. You are-"

"Well, I am what?"

"My prisoner; here is the warrant."

"Warrant! on what charge?"

"The murder of Sir Philip Derval."