he red folds shook, swayed aside, the curtain was
pushed out of sight on its brass rod. The interior of the apartment
came into view, the articles of furniture, the face and figure of Mr.
Dunbar.

"Is it still there; do you see it?" shouted the latter.

"No. It vanished with the curtain. Drop it back. There! I see it. Now
loop it. Gone again. Must be on the curtain," shouted the Solicitor,
peering through the glass at his colleague.

Mr. Dunbar turned a key on the inside, pushed back a bolt, and threw
open the door, which swung outward on the veranda. Then he carefully
let fall the plush curtain once more.

"Do you see it?"

"No. A blank show. I can't see into the trick. Dunbar, change places
with me and satisfy yourself."

The solicitor went inside, and Mr. Dunbar watched from the veranda a
repetition of the experiment.

"That will do, Churchill. It is all plain enough now, but you cease to
wonder at Bedney's superstitious solution. You understand it perfectly,
don't you?"

"No, I'll be hanged if I do! It is the queerest thing I ever saw."

"Do you recollect that there was a violent thunder-storm the night of
the murder?"

"Since you mention it, I certainly recall it. Go on."

"All the witnesses testified that next morning this door was closed as
usual, but the outside blinds were open, and the red curtain was looped
back."

"Yes, I remember all that."

"The images are printed on the glass, and were photographed by a flash
of lightning."

"I never heard of such a freak. Don't believe it."

"Nevertheless it is the only possible solution; and I know that several
similar instances have been recorded. It is like the negative of a
common photograph, brought out by a dark background; and do you notice
the figures are invisible at certain angles? It is very evident the
storm came up during the altercation that night, and electricity
printed the whole scene on this door; stamping the countenance of the
murderer, to help the instruments of justice. While the blinds were
closed, and the curtain was looped aside, of course this wonderful
witness could not testify; but Prince let down the folds just before
his departure, and the moment Bedney opened the blinds, there lay the
truthful record of the awful crime. Verily, the 'irony of fate!' An
overwhelming witness for the defence, only eighteen months too late, to
save a pure, beautiful life from degradation and ruin. Well may Bedney
ask, 'where is your corpus d