turned, and the former had also donned a
disguise, the four proceeded at once to Frye's office. It was early, and
none of the other office occupants on that floor had arrived. As agreed,
Uncle Terry knocked at Frye's door alone, but no one answered. He
knocked again; still no answer. He tried the door; it was locked. Then
he knocked harder; no reply. Then he stepped back to where the others
were waiting. "Thar's nobody in thar," he whispered, "or if thar is he's
asleep!" Albert went forward and listened; there was no sound. Then he
stooped and tried to look through the keyhole; it was plugged.

"I smell gas coming out of the keyhole," he whispered to the officer;
"you go and try it."

The officer did so. Then he took out a pocket knife and thrust the blade
through the keyhole and peeped in. Then he beckoned to Albert.

"Something's wrong in there, Mr. Page," he said. "I can see a man's
legs, and the gas is coming out of that keyhole enough to choke you.
We'd best call the janitor."

That official was found, and he too peeped.

"I noticed a light in Frye's office when I retired last night," he said;
"depend upon it, there is something wrong." Then turning to the officer
he added, "You are an officer of the law, and as I am in charge of this
building I give you permission to open Frye's door on the score of
public safety."

The burly officer waited for no further orders, but, grasping the knob,
threw his whole weight against the door, and it gave way. A cry of
surprise escaped him, and as the rest crowded up they saw a hideous
sight. Frye was sitting in his chair with head thrown back staring at
the ceiling, and with mouth and eyes wide open! The room was stifling
with gas, and the officer opened the window. In doing so he noticed the
two stop-cocks were opened and he turned them off. Then he returned to
the hall. When the room was fit to breathe in again, all four entered,
and the officer laid his hand upon Frye's face.

"Dead," he exclaimed, "and has been for hours!"

Then as the others crowded up to gaze at the face, which bore a look of
inexpressible agony, Albert noticed an envelope on Frye's desk directed
to Silas Terry. He quietly put it in his pocket and joined with the rest
in a search of the room.

"It looks like a case of suicide," observed the officer, "door locked,
keyhole and cracks plugged, window shut, and two gas-burners open! Safe
unlocked and wide open, and here's a till with money in it!"