ove my
cramped limbs, unlike Smith, who seeming to have sinews of piano-wire,
crouched beside me immovable, untiringly. Then loud upon the stillness,
broke the strident note of the telephone bell.

I started, nervously, clutching at Smith's arm. It felt hard as iron to
my grip.

"Hullo!" I heard Slattin call--"who is speaking?... Yes, yes! This is
Mr. A. S.... I am to come at once?... I know where--yes I ... you
will meet me there?... Good!--I shall be with you in half an hour....
Good-by!"

Distinctly I heard the creak of the revolving office-chair as Slattin
rose; then Smith had me by the arm, and we were flying swiftly away from
the door to take up our former post around the angle of the building.
This gained:

"He's going to his death!" rapped Smith beside me; "but Carter has a cab
from the Yard waiting in the nearest rank. We shall follow to see where
he goes--for it is possible that Weymouth may have been thrown off the
scent; then, when we are sure of his destination, we can take a hand in
the game! We..."

The end of the sentence was lost to me--drowned in such a frightful wave
of sound as I despair to describe. It began with a high, thin scream,
which was choked off staccato fashion; upon it followed a loud and
dreadful cry uttered with all the strength of Slattin's lungs--

"Oh, God!" he cried, and again--"Oh, God!"

This in turn merged into a sort of hysterical sobbing.

I was on my feet now, and automatically making for the door. I had a
vague impression of Nayland Smith's face beside me, the eyes glassy with
a fearful apprehension. Then the door was flung open, and, in the bright
light of the hall-way, I saw Slattin standing--swaying and seemingly
fighting with the empty air.

"What is it? For God's sake, what has happened!" reached my ears
dimly--and the man Burke showed behind his master. White-faced I saw him
to be; for now Smith and I were racing up the steps.

Ere we could reach him, Slattin, uttering another choking cry, pitched
forward and lay half across the threshold.

We burst into the hall, where Burke stood with both his hands raised
dazedly to his head. I could hear the sound of running feet upon the
gravel, and knew that Carter was coming to join us.

Burke, a heavy man with a lowering, bull-dog type of face, collapsed
onto his knees beside Slattin, and began softly to laugh in little
rising peals.

"Drop that!" snapped Smith, and grasping him by the shoulders, he sent
him sp