bly battered and bruised. Above the door, painted in white
lettering, was the inscription, "Mr. Hartridge"; and through the doorway
protruded the rather foxy countenance of Inspector Badger.

"I am glad you have come, sir," said he, as he recognized my colleague.
"Mr. Marchmont is sitting inside like a watch-dog, and he growls if any
of us even walks across the room."

The words formed a complaint, but there was a certain geniality in the
speaker's manner which made me suspect that Inspector Badger was already
navigating his craft on a lee shore.

We entered a small lobby or hall, and from thence passed into the
sitting-room, where we found Mr. Marchmont keeping his vigil, in company
with a constable and a uniformed inspector. The three rose softly as we
entered, and greeted us in a whisper; and then, with one accord, we all
looked towards the other end of the room, and so remained for a time
without speaking.

There was, in the entire aspect of the room, something very grim and
dreadful. An atmosphere of tragic mystery enveloped the most commonplace
objects; and sinister suggestions lurked in the most familiar
appearances. Especially impressive was the air of suspense--of ordinary,
every-day life suddenly arrested--cut short in the twinkling of an eye.
The electric lamps, still burning dim and red, though the summer
sunshine streamed in through the windows; the half-emptied tumbler and
open book by the empty chair, had each its whispered message of swift
and sudden disaster, as had the hushed voices and stealthy movements of
the waiting men, and, above all, an awesome shape that was but a few
hours since a living man, and that now sprawled, prone and motionless,
on the floor.

"This is a mysterious affair," observed Inspector Badger, breaking the
silence at length, "though it is clear enough up to a certain point. The
body tells its own story."

We stepped across and looked down at the corpse. It was that of a
somewhat elderly man, and lay, on an open space of floor before the
fireplace, face downwards, with the arms extended. The slender hilt of a
dagger projected from the back below the left shoulder, and, with the
exception of a trace of blood upon the lips, this was the only
indication of the mode of death. A little way from the body a clock-key
lay on the carpet, and, glancing up at the clock on the mantelpiece, I
perceived that the glass front was open.

"You see," pursued the inspector, noting my glance,