e does for
himself, and won't let me have a key, or the run of his rooms. His
tenancy's up in a week or two, and a pretty state we shall find 'em in,
I expect! We shan't miss him like we miss you, sir. Shall you be long
away this time?"

"Can't say, Jenkins. It may be one month or six--or forever," I added,
remembering Carson's fate.

"Oh, don't say that, sir," remonstrated Jenkins.

"I wonder if Mr. Cassavetti is out. I'd like to say good-bye to him," I
resumed presently. "Go up and ring, there's a good chap, Jenkins. And if
he's there, you might ask him to come down."

It struck me that I might at least ascertain from Cassavetti what he
knew of Anne. Why hadn't I thought of that before?

Jenkins departed on his errand, and half a minute later I heard a yell
that brought me to my feet with a bound.

"Hello, what's up?" I called, and rushed up the stairs, to meet Jenkins
at the top, white and shaking.

"Look there, sir," he stammered. "What is it? 'Twasn't there this
morning, when I turned the lights out, I'll swear!"

He pointed to the door-sill, through which was oozing a sluggish,
sinister-looking stream of dark red fluid.

"It's--it's blood!" he whispered.

I had seen that at the first glance.

"Shall I go for the police?"

"No," I said sharply. "He may be only wounded."

I went and hammered at the door, avoiding contact with that horrible
little pool.

"Cassavetti! Cassavetti! Are you within, man?" I shouted; but there was
no answer.

"Stand aside. I'm going to break the lock," I cried.

I flung myself, shoulder first, against the lock, and caught at the
lintel to save myself from falling, as the lock gave and the door swung
inwards,--to rebound from something that it struck against.

I pushed it open again, entered sideways through the aperture, and
beckoned Jenkins to follow.

Huddled up in a heap, almost behind the door, was the body of a man; the
face with its staring eyes was upturned to the light.

It was Cassavetti himself, dead; stabbed to the heart.

CHAPTER VII

A RED-HAIRED WOMAN!

I bent over the corpse and touched the forehead tentatively with my
finger-tips. It was stone cold. The man must have been dead many hours.

"Come on; we must send for the police; pull yourself together, man!" I
said to Jenkins, who seemed half-paralyzed with fear and horror.

We squeezed back through the small opening, and I gently closed the
door, and gripping Jenkins by the arm, march