still in bed, for when the weather is bad he seldom rises before midday.
The housekeeper was busied with some work in the back of the
house. Willoughby Smith had been in his bedroom, which he uses as a
sitting-room, but the maid heard him at that moment pass along the
passage and descend to the study immediately below her. She did not
see him, but she says that she could not be mistaken in his quick, firm
tread. She did not hear the study door close, but a minute or so later
there was a dreadful cry in the room below. It was a wild, hoarse
scream, so strange and unnatural that it might have come either from a
man or a woman. At the same instant there was a heavy thud, which shook
the old house, and then all was silence. The maid stood petrified for a
moment, and then, recovering her courage, she ran downstairs. The study
door was shut and she opened it. Inside, young Mr. Willoughby Smith was
stretched upon the floor. At first she could see no injury, but as she
tried to raise him she saw that blood was pouring from the underside of
his neck. It was pierced by a very small but very deep wound, which had
divided the carotid artery. The instrument with which the injury had
been inflicted lay upon the carpet beside him. It was one of those small
sealing-wax knives to be found on old-fashioned writing-tables, with
an ivory handle and a stiff blade. It was part of the fittings of the
professor's own desk.

"At first the maid thought that young Smith was already dead, but on
pouring some water from the carafe over his forehead he opened his eyes
for an instant. 'The professor,' he murmured--'it was she.' The maid is
prepared to swear that those were the exact words. He tried desperately
to say something else, and he held his right hand up in the air. Then he
fell back dead.

"In the meantime the housekeeper had also arrived upon the scene, but
she was just too late to catch the young man's dying words. Leaving
Susan with the body, she hurried to the professors room. He was sitting
up in bed, horribly agitated, for he had heard enough to convince him
that something terrible had occurred. Mrs. Marker is prepared to swear
that the professor was still in his night-clothes, and indeed it was
impossible for him to dress without the help of Mortimer, whose orders
were to come at twelve o'clock. The professor declares that he heard the
distant cry, but that he knows nothing more. He can give no explanation
of the young man's last wor