don't," he cried, as she flung herself
against the door and burst into her mother's room.

One glance she gave, then she fell on the floor by the side of her dead
mother, and flinging her arms about the form kissed the cold lips.

Tarling pulled her gently away, and half-carried, half-supported her back
to the gallery. A dishevelled man in shirt and trousers whom Tarling
thought might be the butler was hurrying along the corridor.

"Arouse any women who are in the house," said Tarling in a low voice.
"Mrs. Rider has been murdered."

"Murdered, sir!" said the startled man. "You don't mean that?"

"Quick," said Tarling sharply, "Miss Rider has fainted again."

They carried her into the drawing-room and laid her on the couch, and
Tarling did not leave her until he had seen her in the hands of two women
servants.

He went back with the butler to the room where the body lay. He turned on
all the lights and made a careful scrutiny of the room. The window
leading on to the glass-covered balcony where he had been concealed a few
hours before, was latched, locked and bolted.

The curtains, which had been drawn, presumably by Milburgh when he came
for the wallet, were undisturbed. From the position in which the dead
woman lay and the calm on her face he thought death must have come
instantly and unexpectedly. Probably the murderer stole behind her whilst
she was standing at the foot of the sofa which he had partly seen through
the window. It was likely that, to beguile the time of waiting for her
daughter's return, she had taken a book from a little cabinet immediately
behind the door, and support for this theory came in the shape of a book
which had evidently fallen out of her hand between the position in which
she was found and the book-case.

Together the two men lifted the body on to the sofa.

"You had better go down into the town and inform the police," said
Tarling. "Is there a telephone here?"

"Yes, sir," replied the butler.

"Good, that will save you a journey," said the detective.

He notified the local police officials and then got on to Scotland Yard
and sent a messenger to arouse Whiteside. The faint pallor of dawn was in
the sky when he looked out of the window, but the pale light merely
served to emphasise the pitch darkness of the world.

He examined the knife, which had the appearance of being a very ordinary
butcher's knife. There were some faint initials burnt upon the hilt, but
these had been