ed him down the stairs to my
rooms. He was trembling like a leaf, and scarcely able to stand alone.

"We've never had such a thing happen before," he kept mumbling
helplessly, over and over again.

I bade him have some whiskey, if he could find any, and remain there to
keep an eye on the staircase, while I went across to Scotland Yard; for,
through some inexplicable pig-headedness on the part of the police
authorities, not even the headquarters was on the telephone.

The Abbey bells were ringing for afternoon service, and there were many
people about, churchgoers and holiday makers in their Sunday clothes.
The contrast between the sunny streets, with their cheerful crowds, and
the silent sinister tragedy of the scene I had just left struck me
forcibly.

If I had sent Jenkins on the errand, I guess he would have created quite
a sensation. That is why I went myself; and I doubt if any one saw
anything unusual about me, as I threaded my way quietly through the
throng at Whitehall corner, where the 'buses stop to take up passengers.

A minute or two later I was in an inspector's room at "the Yard," giving
my information to a little man who heard me out almost in silence,
watching me keenly the while.

I imagine that I appeared quite calm. I could hear my own voice stating
the bald facts succinctly, but, to my ears, it sounded like the voice of
some one else, for it was with a great effort that I retained my
composure. I knew that this strange and terrible event which I had been
the one to discover was only another link in the chain of circumstances,
which, so far as my knowledge went, began less than twenty-four hours
ago; a chain that threatened to fetter me, or the girl I loved. For my
own safety I cared nothing. My one thought was to protect Anne, who must
be, either fortuitously, or of her own will, involved in this tangled
web of intrigue.

I should, of course, be subjected to cross-examination, and, on my way
to Scotland Yard, I had decided just what I meant to reveal. I would
have to relate how I encountered the old Russian, when he mistook my
flat for Cassavetti's; but of the portrait in his possession, of our
subsequent interview, and of the incident of the river steps, I would
say nothing.

For the present I merely stated how Jenkins and I had discovered the
fact that a murder had been committed.

"I dined in company with Mr. Cassavetti last night," I continued. "But
before that--"

I was going to men