and the door open. The quick snap of the electric light declared nobody
in the dining-room. Beyond, the study was in darkness. Nobody there,
but--stop!

A stain on the carpet; another by the conservatory door. Pots of flowers
scattered about, and a huddled mass like a litter of empty sacks in one
corner. Then the huddled mass resolved itself into the figure of a man
with a white face smeared with blood. Dead! Oh, yes, dead enough.

Steel flew to the telephone and rang furiously.

"Give me 52, Police Station," he cried. "Are you there? Send somebody at
once up here--15, Downend Terrace. There has been murder done here. For
Heaven's sake come quickly."

Steel dropped the receiver and stared with strained eyes at the dreadful
sight before him.




CHAPTER IV

IN EXTREMIS


For some time--a minute, an hour--Steel stood over the dreadful thing
huddled upon the floor of his conservatory. Just then he was incapable of
consecutive ideas.