nquired of the first
person I met, a working man going home, for the nearest doctor, and he
directed me to a Dr. Redfern only about ten doors away.

Within a few seconds I was pausing at this door, and endeavouring to
make an astonished parlour-maid understand that I wanted to see her
master on a matter of life and death.

A placid-looking gentleman made his appearance from a room at the end
of the entrance hall while I was speaking to her, with an evening paper
in his hand.

"What's the matter?" he asked casually.

"Murder is the matter," I answered between gasps of excitement, "murder
at Number 190, and I want you to come at once."

I gave him a brief account of the old lady with her throat cut. He
stood looking at me a moment or two, as if in doubt whether I was sane
or not, then made up his mind.

"All right," he said, "just wait a moment and I'll come with you."

He reappeared in about a couple of minutes, wearing an overcoat and a
tall hat.

"Now," he said, "just lead the way."

We went together straight back to Number 190, and I think he had some
misgivings about entering the house with me alone, but I reassured him
by reminding him that an old lady was dying within; as it was he made
me go first.

"I had no idea any one lived here at all," he remarked, as I lighted
him along the passage to the stairs by means of wax vestas, of which I
fortunately had a supply, for there was no candle in the hall. "I
always thought this house was shut up. But still I have only been here
just over twelve months."

"I think you will find," I said, as we got firmly on the basement
floor, and saw the reflection of my candle which I had left on the
table in the sitting-room, "that there are a good many surprises in
this house."

"Now," I continued as we entered the room, "the old lady is lying in
there. I will take this candle and show you the way." I led the way
into the room, and held the candle aloft, with a shudder at what I
expected to see there.

_The bed was empty._

I rubbed my eyes and looked again.

No, there was nothing there; the bed looked rather rumpled, but there
was no sign whatever of the old lady.

"Well," remarked the doctor sharply--he had followed closely at my
heels--"where is your murdered old lady?"

I looked round the bedroom helplessly.

"I would take the most solemn oath," I said steadfastly, "that I left
the old lady lying on that bed with her throat cut, and her clothes and
th