ring the night. Poor
Rooney has been murdered--at least so they believe--and Smythe, who
found him, wants me to come down and see if anything has been stolen. I
must go at once. The body is in our laboratory."

"Rooney? Ah, poor fellow."

The girl wept a little, but braced herself to assist her father.

"I'm going with you," she said.

"No, no. You'd better remain here: you can come along later," said
Young. "I don't like to have you see such sights, dear. It wouldn't be
good for you."

"I'll be all right. I promise you I will."

She insisted and he was forced to let her accompany him to the museum.
They hailed a cab and were soon at the door. The elevator took them to
the top floor, and swiftly they passed along the corridors and came to
the portal which led into the rooms where the amber blocks were.

* * * * *

Smythe greeted them, a worried look on his seamed face. "I've sent for
an ambulance, Professor," he said.

Young nodded, brushed past him, and entered the laboratory. In the
morning light the amber blocks had taken on a reddish tinge. Now, they
seemed to oppress the young woman, who had bravely remained at her
father's side as he walked quickly to the base of the biggest block.

A vague shape lay in the shadows between the wall and the largest amber
mass. Professor Young bent over the body of Rooney, and felt the pulse.

"He's been dead some time," he said.

She nodded, stricken to the heart by this terrible end of her old friend
Rooney.

"There's nothing we can do for him, now," went on her father soberly.
"It looks as though he had been set upon and stabbed time after time by
his assailant or assailants, whoever they were."

"How--how pale he is," said Betty. "Poor Rooney was so jolly and
red-faced, but his skin is like chalk."

"And he's shrunken, too. It seems there's no blood left in his veins,"
said her father.

* * * * *

Marable, who had been called also, came in then and aided in the
examination. He said good morning to Betty and her father, and then went
to bend over Rooney's body.

"See the look of abject terror on his face," Betty heard Marable say to
her father as the two examined the corpse. "He must have been very much
afraid of whoever killed him."

"They beat him up frightfully," said Young. "There must have been
several of the assassins; it would take more than one man to do such
damage."

"Yes. His ribs