erson's comfortable
study, discussing, over a glass of old port, the gossip of the 'varsity
or the latest developments of medicine or of surgery.

On the day which followed his interview with Monkhouse Lee, Smith shut
up his books at a quarter past eight, the hour when he usually started
for his friend's house. As he was leaving his room, however, his eyes
chanced to fall upon one of the books which Bellingham had lent him,
and his conscience pricked him for not having returned it. However
repellent the man might be, he should not be treated with discourtesy.
Taking the book, he walked downstairs and knocked at his neighbour's
door. There was no answer; but on turning the handle he found that it
was unlocked. Pleased at the thought of avoiding an interview, he
stepped inside, and placed the book with his card upon the table.

The lamp was turned half down, but Smith could see the details of the
room plainly enough. It was all much as he had seen it before--the
frieze, the animal-headed gods, the banging crocodile, and the table
littered over with papers and dried leaves. The mummy case stood
upright against the wall, but the mummy itself was missing. There was
no sign of any second occupant of the room, and he felt as he withdrew
that he had probably done Bellingham an injustice. Had he a guilty
secret to preserve, he would hardly leave his door open so that all the
world might enter.

The spiral stair was as black as pitch, and Smith was slowly making his
way down its irregular steps, when he was suddenly conscious that
something had passed him in the darkness. There was a faint sound, a
whiff of air, a light brushing past his elbow, but so slight that he
could scarcely be certain of it. He stopped and listened, but the wind
was rustling among the ivy outside, and he could hear nothing else.

"Is that you, Styles?" he shouted.

There was no answer, and all was still behind him. It must have been a
sudden gust of air, for there were crannies and cracks in the old
turret. And yet he could almost have sworn that he heard a footfall by
his very side. He had emerged into the quadrangle, still turning the
matter over in his head, when a man came running swiftly across the
smooth-cropped lawn.

"Is that you, Smith?"

"Hullo, Hastie!"

"For God's sake come at once! Young Lee is drowned! Here's Harrington
of King's with the news. The doctor is out. You'll do, but come along
at once. There may be life