on him again. He stared
vacantly at the others, shrugged his shoulders slightly, and turned his
back on them.

The silence remained unbroken until a loud ringing at the front door
bell announced the arrival of the police.

CHAPTER V

COPPLESTONE

Detective-Inspector Fay was an able and successful officer, of
international reputation, whose achievements had placed a substantial
price on his head in most countries sufficiently civilized to possess
their criminal organizations. His bag had included many famous
law-breakers, and, though now employed in less strenuous directions, he
was admitted to be one of the most skilful and reliable of Scotland
Yard's unravelers of mystery. But, experienced as he was, the inspector
could not suppress his horror and indignation when the mutilated body of
Christine Manderson was uncovered to him.

"What, in God's name, was there in this garden to-night?" he demanded,
shuddering.

"A madman," the theatrical manager muttered.

The inspector's glance rested on him for an instant, but passed on. He
made no further remarks during his examination--but when, concluding it,
he carefully replaced the covering and turned again to the others, there
was a concentrated gleam in his eyes and a certain set to his face that
were known to bode ill to the perpetrators of the deeds that inspired
them.

"There can scarcely be a whole bone in her body," he declared, regarding
them all intently. "Her face is smashed to pulp; some of the hair has
been wrenched from her head; and even the bones of her fingers are
broken. It is the most brutal and disgusting crime I have had the
misfortune to meet with in the whole of my thirty years experience."

He gave a brief order to an attendant constable, who moved to the door.

"If you will kindly retire with the constable to the next room," he
requested, "I will take a separate account from every one. Perhaps Mr.
Copplestone will give me his information first."

The constable marshalled them into an adjoining room, which the
danseuse filled with complaints at this prolonged detention. Copplestone
remained behind. His dullness and immobility had increased almost to a
stupor.

"She was engaged to marry me," he said, in a slow lifeless tone, "since
yesterday."

Inspector Fay seated himself at a table, and opened his note-book.

"We fully sympathize with you, Mr. Copplestone," he said quietly, "and I
am afraid it is poor consolation to promise you