s eyes were screwed up into a rigid state of
contraction which death had not yet relaxed. His whole body was rigid. I
knew that the knife had pierced his heart. But the most extraordinary
thing about him was his expression. I have never looked on a face either
in life or death that expressed such terror. Even the policemen were
startled. The light of their lamps shone on that monstrous and distorted
countenance, and we gazed in horrified silence.

"Is he dead?" asked one at last.

"Quite dead," I replied, "but it is odd to find this rigidity so early."
I began to press his eyelids apart. The right eye opened. I uttered a
cry of astonishment.

"Look!" I cried.

They stared.

"Blest if that ain't queer," said one. "It's that Blue Disease. He must
'ave come from Birmingham."

"Queer?" I said passionately. "Why, man, it's tragedy--unadulterated
tragedy. The man was an Immortal."

They stared at me heavily.

"Immortal?" said one.

"He would have lived for ever," I said. "In his system there is the most
marvellous germ that the world has ever known. It was circulating in his
blood. It had penetrated to every part of his body. A few minutes ago,
as he walked along the dark street, he had before him a future of
unnumbered years. And now he lies in the gutter. Can you imagine a
greater tragedy?"

The policemen transferred their gaze from me to the dead man. Then, as
if moved by a common impulse, they began to laugh. I watched them
moodily, plunged in an extraordinary vein of thought. When I moved away
they at once stopped me.

"No, you don't," said one. "We'll want you at the police station to give
your evidence. Not," he continued with a grin, "to tell that bit of
information you just gave us, about him being an angel or something."

"I didn't say he was an angel."

They laughed tolerantly. Like Mr. Clutterbuck, they thought I was mad.

"Let's hope he's an angel," said the other. "But, by his face, he looks
more like the other thing. Bill, you go round for the ambulance. I'll
stay with the gentleman."

The policeman moved away ponderously and vanished in the darkness.

"What was that you were saying, sir?" asked the policeman who remained
with me.

"Never mind," I muttered, "you wouldn't understand."

"I'm interested in religious matters," continued the policeman in a soft
voice. "You think that the Blue Disease is something out of the common?"

I am never surprised at London policemen, but I looked at