nd locked top and bottom. Field switched up the electric
lights and made a survey of the rooms. The blinds were all down and the
shutters up. Suddenly Inspector Field gave a grunt of satisfaction.

"We've got something here, at any rate," he said. "And the poor chap
seems to be badly hurt. Carry him out gently and see if the doctor is
still here."

A body lay on the floor; the hands and arms were secured to the sides by
straps; a tightly rolled pad of black cloth was fixed in the poor
fellow's mouth. There was a ghastly wound on the side of his head from
which the blood was still oozing; a great deal of it had congealed on
his collar. A slight groan proved that the victim was still alive. "It's
the hall porter," the manager cried. "It's poor Benwort. What a horrible
thing!"

"Looks like concussion of the brain," Field said. "Thank goodness,
here's Dr. Andrews. We will make a further search of these rooms, for
it's pretty certain that the other fellow is here also. Ah, I felt very
sure that we should find him."

A second man, also in the livery of the hotel, lay by a sofa. He seemed
to have fared better, for there was no blood on his face, though a
great swelling over his right ear testified to the fact that he had been
severely handled. He was not insensible, but he hardly knew what he was
talking about as he was placed on his feet.

"Tell us all about it," the inspector said encouragingly. "What really
happened?"

"Don't ask me," Catton, the night watchman said, as he held his hands to
his head. "My brain feels as if it had been squeezed dry. Somebody hit
me on the head after a lady in grey came and fetched me. A little lady
in grey, with a sad face and grey eyes."

Berrington started violently, and Mark looked up in surprise. The grey
lady--Beatrice's Slave of Silence--seemed to run through this mystery
like the thread of a story. It was an entirely interesting moment, but
unhappily the night watchman could say no more.

"Don't worry me so," he whined. "Put some ice on my head and let me
sleep. I dare say I shall be able to puzzle it out in time. Somebody
carried something down the stairs; then the big door opened and the
night porter whistled for a cab. That's all."

The speaker lurched forward and appeared to fall into a comatose state.
There was nothing for it but to put him to bed without delay. Field
looked puzzled.

"I suppose that poor fellow was talking coherently in snatches," he
said. "No doubt