ower end."

"Who does the shop belong to?"

"Aaron Norman," said the policeman whose beat it was; "he's a
second-hand bookseller, a quiet, harmless, timid sort of man."

"Anyone about?"

"No, sir. I passed down Gwynne Street at about a quarter past twelve and
all seemed safe. When I come back later--it might have been twenty
minutes and more--say twenty-five--I saw the woman who was down here
clinging to a window on the first floor, and shouting murder. I gave the
summons, sir, and we broke open the door."

Inspector Prince laid down the dead man's head and rose to his feet with
a nod. "I'll go upstairs and see the woman," he said; "tell me when the
doctor comes."

Upstairs he examined the sitting-room, and lighted the gas therein; then
he mounted another storey after looking through the kitchen and
dining-room. In a bedroom he found an empty bed, but heard someone
talking in a room near at hand. Flinging open the door he heard a
shriek, and found himself confronted by Deborah, who had hastily flung
on some clothes. "Don't come in," she cried, extending her arm, "for I'm
just getting Miss Sylvia round."

"Nonsense," said the Inspector, and pushing her roughly aside he stepped
into the room. On the bed lay Sylvia, apparently still unconscious, but
as the man looked at her she opened her eyes with a long sigh. Deborah
put her arms round the girl and began to talk to her in an endearing
way. Shortly Sylvia sat up, bewildered. "What is it?" she asked. Then
her eyes fell on the policeman. "Oh, where is my father?"

"He's dead, pretty," said Deborah, fondling her. "Don't take on so."

"Yes--I remember--the body on the floor--the serpent across the
mouth--oh--oh!" and she fainted again.

"There!" cried Deborah, with bitter triumph, "see what you've done."

"Come--come," said Inspector Prince, though as gently as possible. "I
am in charge of this case. Tell me what has happened."

"If you'd use your blessed eyes you'd see murder has happened," said
Miss Junk, savagely. "Let me attend to my pretty."

Just at this moment a tall young man entered the room. It was the
doctor. "The policemen said you were up here," he said in a pleasant
voice. "I've examined the body, Inspector. The man is quite dead--he has
been strangled--and in a cruel manner with that copper wire, which has
cut into the throat, to say nothing of this," and the doctor held out
the brooch.

"That, drat it!" cried Deborah, vigorously, "it's the cau