he had concluded, bent over the prostrate
form of the dead man and began a hurried search of his person and the
surrounding floor. I observed him in astonishment. "The police must
never find it," I heard him mutter; "the police must never find it." He
rose to his feet with an exclamation of disappointment. "Where can it
be?" he muttered, half to himself, apparently forgetful of my presence.
He looked about the room and then with a sudden cry dashed at a table
near the window. I followed his movements and saw upon the table the
small, green leather case from which Ashton had produced the emerald at
dinner the night before. Major Temple took up the case with a sigh of
relief, and hastily opened it, then dashed it to the floor with an oath.
The case was empty.

"It's gone!" he fairly screamed. "My God, it's gone!"

"Impossible," I said, gravely. "The windows are all tightly shut and
bolted. We had to break in the door. No one could have entered or left
this room since Mr. Ashton came into it."

"Nonsense!" Major Temple snorted, angrily. "Do you suppose Ashton
smashed in his own skull by way of amusement?"

He turned to the bed and began to search it closely, removing the
pillows, feeling beneath the mattresses, even taking the candle and
examining the floor foot by foot. Once more he went over the contents of
the portmanteau, then again examined the clothing of the dead man, but
all to no purpose. The emerald Buddha was as clearly and evidently gone
as though it had vanished into the surrounding ether.

During this search, I had been vainly trying to put together some
intelligent solution of this remarkable affair. There was clearly no
possibility that Ashton had inflicted this wound upon himself in
falling, yet the supposition that someone had entered the room from
without seemed nullified by the bolted door and windows. I proceeded to
closer examination of the matter.

The body lay with its head toward the window in the west wall of the
room, and some six or eight feet from the window, and an even greater
distance from the walls on either side. There was no piece of furniture,
no heavy object, anywhere near at hand. I looked again at the queer,
round conical hole in the top of the dead man's head. It had evidently
been delivered from above. I glanced up, and saw only the dim, unbroken
expanse of the ceiling above me, papered in white. I turned, absolutely
nonplused, to Major Temple, who stood staring with protrudin