quiet neutral shade: so were the easy-chairs, and the colour of the
heavy curtains, which hung in front of the two high windows, was in
harmony with the restful decorative scheme of the room.

The massive oaken door stood opposite the window overlooking the
rosery--the window through which Horace Trevert had entered. Parrish's
desk was in front of this window, between it and the door in
consequence. By the other window, which, as has been stated, looked out
on the clipped hedge surrounding the Pleasure Ground, was the little
table with the Chelsea china, the dictaphone, and one of the
easy-chairs. The centre of the room was clear so that nothing lay
between the door and the carved mahogany chair at the desk. Here, as
they all knew, Parrish was accustomed to sit when working, his back to
the door, his face to the window overlooking the rosery.

The desk stood about ten feet from the window. On it was a large brass
lamp which cast a brilliant circle of light upon the broad flat top of
the desk with its orderly array of letter-trays, its handsome
silver-edged blotter and silver and tortoise-shell writing
appurtenances. By the light of this lamp Dr. Romain, looking from the
doorway, saw that Hartley Parrish's chair was vacant, pushed back a
little way from the desk. The rest of the room was wrapt in unrevealing
half-light.

"He's there by the window!"

Horace was whispering to the doctor. Romain strode over to the desk and
picked up the lamp. As he did so, his eyes fell upon the pale face of
Hartley Parrish. He lay on his back in the space between the desk and
the window. His head was flung back, his eyes, bluish-grey,--the narrow,