in a rug which had got twisted in a heap
round the fallen chair. I disentangled myself from its coils, only to
slip and almost lose my balance by stepping into some spilled liquid
which lay thick and greasy on the bare boards.

The warm hopefulness which I had brought into this dark, silent room was
chilled and dying now.

"I'm afraid there's been a struggle here," I thought. And if there had
been a struggle--what of the treaty?

There seemed to be a good deal of the spilled liquid, for as I felt my
way along, more anxious than ever for light, the floor was still wet and
slippery; and then, in the midst of the puddle, I stumbled over a thing
that was heavy and soft to the touch of my foot.

A queer tingling, like the sting of a thousand tiny electric needles
prickled through my veins, for even before I stooped and laid my hand on
that barrier which was so heavy and yet so soft as it stopped my path, I
knew what it would prove to be.

It was as if I could see through the dark, to what it hid. But though
there was no surprise left, there was a shock of horror as my fingers
touched an arm, a throat, an upturned face. And my fingers were wet, as
I knew my boots must be. And I knew, too, with what they were wet.

I'm ashamed to say that, after the first shock of the discovery, my
impulse was to get away, and out of the whole business, in which, for
reasons which concerned others even more than myself, it would be
unpleasant to be involved, just at this time especially. I could go
downstairs now, past the sleeping concierge, and with luck no one need
ever know that I had been in this dark room of death.

But as quickly as the impulse came, it went. I must stop here and search
for the treaty, no matter what happened, until I had found it or made
sure it was not to be found; I must not think of escape. If there were
matches in the room, well and good; if not, I must go elsewhere for
them, and come back. It was a grim task, but it had to be done.

Somehow, I got to the mantelpiece; and there luckily, among a litter of
pipes and bottles and miscellaneous rubbish, I did lay my hand on a
broken cup containing a few matches. I struck one, which showed me on
the mantel an end of a candle standing up in a bed of its own grease. I
lighted it, and not until the flame was burning brightly did I look
round.

There was but a faint illumination, yet it was enough to give me the
secret of the room. I might have seen all at a glanc