The policeman took me by the shoulders, turned me to the gaslight, and
looked in my face.

"Excuse me, sor," he said. "I see you're not one of that kind. Some of
'em learns it from the blitherin' Chaneymen."

I was mystified at the moment, but I found later that he suspected me
of having had an opium dream. The house, I learned, was frequented by
the "opium fiends," as they figure in police slang.

"It's a nasty place," he continued. "It's lucky I've got a light." He
brought up a dark lantern from his overcoat pocket, and stood in the
shelter of the building as he lighted it. "There's not many as carries
'em," he continued, "but they're mighty handy at times."

We made our way to the point beneath the window, where the men had
stood.

There was nothing to be seen--no sign of struggle, no shred of torn
clothing, no drop of blood. Body, traces and all had disappeared.




CHAPTER III

A QUESTION IN THE NIGHT


I was stricken dumb at this end to the investigation, and half doubted