e to the insistent clamor of the bell, the door was
opened by Muldoon. On seeing Britz he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Come on into the sitting-room," he said, closing the door on the
curious crowd that pressed forward.

At the threshold of the sitting-room, their forms framed in the wide,
curtained doorway, the two detectives stood, amazement printed on their
faces. Greig's heart was throbbing violently and his breath came in
short gasps. Britz, as he gazed on the unexpected sight that met his
eyes, stood as one stupefied.

On a couch at the side of the room, her pale face a chalky white, her
eyes staring rigidly, a thin line of blood dropping from the corner of
her mouth, the woman they had come to see was stretched--dead.

And, standing over her like a statue of dumb despair, was the figure of
Horace Beard.

CHAPTER VII

Britz recovered gradually from his astonishment. Advancing to the couch
he examined the lifeless form of the woman, noting that the shot which
killed her had entered the mouth and probably penetrated to the base of
the skull. A small pearl-handled revolver gleamed ominously from the
floor, about seven or eight feet from the lounge. Britz picked it up,
examined it, then deposited it on a convenient table.

As the detective moved about the apartment, his activity seemed to
arouse the others from the half-stupefied state into which they had
lapsed. Beard, who had remained standing as if petrified by the tragic
turn of events, suddenly regained his faculties and gazed apprehensively
at the officers.

With studied deliberation Britz disregarded his presence in the room and
continued to busy himself with an examination of the contents of a small
writing table that stood in an angle of the wall.

Evidently drawing courage from Britz's preoccupation and from the
bewildered inactivity of the other officers, Beard bent forward until
his hand touched the floor, and, after groping for an instant beneath
the head of the couch, again drew himself to an erect posture.

"I'll take that paper!" Britz's voice broke the silence.

A tremor shook Beard's frame, while the blood drained from his face.
Then, a rebellious impulse against the detective's calm assertion of
authority possessing him, he made a bold effort to destroy the paper he
had picked off the floor.

But Britz was prepared to anticipate the move. Leaping forward he seized
the other's wrists in an iron grip that caused Beard to groan wi