arbara keeping step with him,
and her sister following in their wake. At the door Barbara paused and
looked back.

"Will there be an inquest?" she asked.

"That's for the coroner to decide," responded Ferguson. "As long as Mr.
Turnbull entered your house on a wager and died from an attack of angina
pectoris the inquest is likely to be a mere formality. Ah, here is the
coroner now," as a man paused in the doorway.

Helen McIntyre moved back from the door to make room for Coroner
Penfield. Having had occasion to attend court that morning, he was
passing the door when attracted by the group just inside the room.
Courteously acknowledging Helen's act, Penfield stepped briskly across
the threshold and stopped abruptly on catching sight of the lonely
figure on the floor.

"Won't you hold an autopsy, Ferguson?" asked Clymer, breaking his long
silence.

"No, sir, we never do when the cause of death is apparent," the
detective bowed to Coroner Penfield. "Isn't that so, Coroner?"

Penfield nodded. "Unless the condition of the body indicates foul play
or the relatives specially request it, we do not perform autopsies," he
answered. "What has happened here?" and he gazed about with quickened
interest.

"Mr. Turnbull, who masqueraded as a burglar on a wager with Miss
McIntyre died suddenly from angina pectoris," explained the deputy
marshal.

"Just a case of death from natural causes," broke in Rochester. "Please
write out a permit for me to remove Turnbull's body, Dr. Penfield."

Helen McIntyre took a step forward. Her eyes, twice their accustomed
size, shone brightly, in contrast to her dead white face. Carefully
avoiding her sister's glance she addressed the coroner.

"I must insist," she began and stopped to control her voice. "As Mr.
Turnbull's fiancee, I--" she faltered again. "I demand that an autopsy
be held to determine the cause of his death."

CHAPTER III. THE ROOM WITH THE SEVEN DOORS

Mrs. Brewster regarded her surroundings with inward satisfaction. It
would have taken a far more captious critic than the pretty widow to
find fault with the large, high-ceilinged room in which she sat. The
handsome carved Venetian furniture, the rich hangings and valuable
paintings on the walls gave evidence of Colonel McIntyre's artistic
taste and appreciation of the beautiful. Mrs. Brewster had never failed,
during her visit to the McIntyre twins, to examine the rare curios in
the carved cabinets and the tapestries o