aster!" gasped Deborah,
pointing a shaking finger. "Dead--the--the cellar--the--" and here she
made as to drop. A policeman caught her in his arms, but the woman shook
herself free. "I sha'n't faint--no--I sha'n't faint," she gasped, "the
cellar--look--look--" She ran forward and raised the head of the dead
man. When the officers saw the dangling slack wire disappearing through
a hole in the floor they grasped the situation. "The passage outside!"
cried Deborah, directing operations; "the trap-door," she ran to it,
"fast bolted below, and them murdering people are there."

"How many are there?" asked a policeman, while several officers ran
round the back through the side passage.

"Oh, you dratted fool, how should I know!" cried Deborah, fiercely;
"there may be one and there may be twenty. Go and catch them--you're
paid for it. Send to number twenty Park Street, Bloomsbury, for Bart."

"Who is Bart?"

"Go and fetch him," cried Deborah, furious at this delay; "number twenty
Park Street, Bloomsbury. Oh, what a night this is! I'm a-goin' to see
Miss Sylvia, who has fainted, and small blame," and she made for the
locked door. An officer came after her. "Go away," shrieked Deborah,
pushing him back. "I've got next to nothink on, and my pretty is ill. Go
away and do your business."

Seeing she was distracted and hardly knew what she was saying, the man
drew back, and Deborah ran up the stairs to Sylvia's room, where she
found the poor girl still unconscious.

Meanwhile, an Inspector had arrived, and one of the policemen was
detailing all that had occurred from the time Deborah had given the
alarm at the window. The Inspector listened quietly to everything, and
then examined the body. "Strangled with a copper wire," he said, looking
up. "Go for a doctor one of you. It goes through the floor," he added,
touching the wire which still circled the throat, "and must have been
pulled from below. Examine the cellar."

Even as he spoke, and while one zealous officer ran off for a medical
man, there was a grating sound and the trap-door was thrown open. A
policeman leaped into the shop and saluted when he saw his superior. By
this time the gas had been lighted. "We've broken down the back door,
sir," said he, "the cellar door--it was locked but not bolted. Nothing
in the cellar, everything in order, but that wire," he pointed to the
means used for strangling, "dangled from the ceiling and a cross piece
of wood is bound to the l