expression of surprise marked his face, and the corner of each open eye
had not yet lost its lustre, but the pupil was much dilated.

CHAPTER VI. THE ORDER FROM LONDON

Henry Lennox suffered as he had not suffered even during the horrors
of war. For the first time in his life he felt fear. He lowered the
unconscious man to the ground, and knew that he was dead, for he had
looked on sudden death too often to feel in any doubt. Others, however,
were not so ready to credit this, and after he hastened downstairs with
his evil message, both Sir Walter and Masters found it hard to believe
him.

When he descended, his uncle and May were standing at the dining room
door, waiting for him and Peter Hardcastle. Mary had just joined them.

"He's dead!" was all the youth could say; then, thoroughly unnerved, he
fell into a chair and buried his face in his hands.

Again through his agency had a dead man been discovered in the Grey
Room. In each case his had been the eyes first to confront a tragedy,
and his the voice to report it. The fact persisted in his mind with a
dark obstinacy, as though some great personal tribulation had befallen
him.

Mary stopped with her cousin and asked terrified questions, while Sir
Walter, calling to Masters, hastened upstairs, followed by Septimus May.
The clergyman was also agitated, yet in his concern there persisted a
note almost of triumph.

"It is there!" he cried. "It is close to us, watching us, powerless to
touch either you or me. But this unhappy sceptic proved an easy victim."

"Would to God I had listened to you yesterday," said Sir Walter. "Then
this innocent man had not perhaps been snatched from life."

"You were directed not to listen. Your heart was hardened. His hour had
come."

"I cannot believe it. We may restore him. It is impossible that he can
be dead in a moment."

They stood over the detective, and Masters and Fred Caunter, with
courage and presence of mind, carried him out into the corridor.

The butler spoke.

"Run for the brandy, Fred," he said. "We must get some down his neck if
we can. I don't feel the gentleman's heart, but it may not have stopped.
He's warm enough."

The footman obeyed, and Hardcastle was laid upon his back. Then Sir
Walter directed Masters.

"Hold his head up. It may be better for him."

They waited, and, during the few moments before Caunter returned, Sir
Walter spoke again. His mind wandered backward and seemed for the mome