tour of the room, examining the window and finding it
fastened. As far as I could discover, nothing whatever was disturbed.

Then I went out to her and, closing the door behind me, said--

"Short must go along to the police station. We must report it."

"But is it really necessary?" she asked anxiously. "Think of the awful
exposure in the papers. Can't we hush it up? Do, Ralph--for my sake,"
she implored.

"But I can't give a death certificate when a person has been
murdered," I explained. "Before burial there must be a _post-mortem_
and an inquest."

"Then you think he has actually been murdered?"

"Of course, without a doubt. It certainly isn't suicide."

The discovery had caused her to become rigid, almost statuesque.
Sudden terror often acts thus upon women of her highly nervous
temperament. She allowed me to lead her downstairs and back to the
dining room. On the way I met Short in the hall, and ordered him to go
at once to the police station.

"Now, dearest," I said, taking her hand tenderly in mine when we were
alone together with the door closed, "tell me calmly all you know of
this awful affair."

"I--I know nothing," she declared. "Nothing except what you already
know. Short knocked at my door and I dressed hastily, only to discover
that the poor old gentleman was dead."

"Was the house still locked up?"

"I believe so. The servants could, I suppose, tell that."

"But is it not strange that Mary is still absent?" I remarked,
perplexed.

"No, not very. Sometimes she has missed her last train and has stopped
the night with the Penn-Pagets or the Hennikers. It is difficult, she
says, to go to supper after the theatre and catch the last train. It
leaves Charing Cross so early."

Again there seemed a distinct inclination on her part to shield her
sister.

"The whole thing is a most profound mystery," she went on. "I must
have slept quite lightly, for I heard the church clock strike each
quarter until one o'clock, yet not an unusual sound reached me.
Neither did nurse hear anything."

Nurse Kate was an excellent woman whom I had known at Guy's through
several years. Both Sir Bernard and myself had every confidence in
her, and she had been the invalid's attendant for the past two years.

"It certainly is a mystery--one which we must leave to the police to
investigate. In the meantime, however, we must send Short to Redcliffe
Square to find Mary. He must not tell her the truth, but merely say
th