he opposite end of the house to the
conservatory, and now the gas-light streamed out through one half of it,
which stood curtainless and ajar, while the curtain was drawn across the
other half. Hewitt was the least familiar with the place, but he was
quickest on his legs, and more seriously alarmed than the others. He
reached the window first--and instantly turned and thrust the rector
back against Miss Creswick. "Quick! take her away," he said; "we are too
late!" and in the same moment, even as Hewitt dashed over the threshold,
he snatched a whistle from his pocket, and blew his hardest.

There on the floor lay Mason, his face dreadful and staring and black;
tight in his neck was the band of a tourniquet, and fresh and wet on his
forehead was the Red Triangle.

Hewitt snatched at the screw of the tourniquet behind the neck, and
loosened it as quickly as hands could turn. But it was too late. Too
late, the examining surgeon afterwards said, by a quarter of an hour.

Plummer was at the window with his men at his heels even before the
tourniquet was half unscrewed.

"Round the wall of the garden," shouted Hewitt, "and whistle up the
police! He's only this moment out!"

The house was alive with shouts and screams. The rector came running
back, and Hewitt, busy with his useless attempt at restoration, called
now for a doctor. People were scampering in the street, and Hewitt left
the victim to the care of the rector, and himself joined Plummer, all in
fewer seconds than it may be told in.

But Plummer and his men were beaten, for nothing--not so much as a
moving shadow--was seen in the garden or about the walls. Worse, the
general trampling would obliterate possible tracks. Plummer set a guard
of police about the wall, and came in for consultation with Hewitt.

The body was carried into another room, and Hewitt and Plummer began an
examination of the study.

"No signs of a struggle," commented Plummer, "and there was no noise,
they say. That's very odd."

"From what I have seen and heard to-day," said Hewitt, "it is as I
should have expected. I believe the man was almost killed by terror
before he was strangled--dazed, stricken dumb, paralysed, deafened by
it--everything but blinded, poor wretch. And to have been blinded would
have been a mercy."

And then, as they made their examination systematically, calmly and
without flurry, Hewitt told the whole tale of his day's adventures,
together with all he had heard f