onversing at the time of the detective's arrival with an alert-looking,
clean-shaven man whose bag, umbrella, and silk hat stood upon one of the
little inlaid tables. Just inside the second door were Brisley and Gunn,
both palpably ill at ease, and glancing at Inspector Whiteleaf, who had
been interrogating them.

Kerry chewed silently for a moment, bestowing a fierce stare upon each
face in turn, then:

"Who's in charge?" he snapped.

"I am," replied Whiteleaf.

"Why is the lower door open?"

"I thought--"

"Don't think. Shut the door. Post your Sergeant inside. No one is to go
out. Grab anybody who comes in. Where's the body?"

"This way," said Inspector Whiteleaf hurriedly; then, over his shoulder:
"Go down to the door, Burton."

He led Kerry towards the inner room, Coombes at his heels. Brisley and
Gunn stood aside to give them passage; Gray and Monte Irvin prepared to
follow. At the doorway Kerry turned.

"You will all be good enough to stay where you are," he said. He
directed the aggressive stare in Seton's direction. "And if the
gentleman smoking a cheroot is not satisfied that he has quite destroyed
any clue perceptible by the sense of smell I should be glad to send out
for some fireworks."

He tossed his oilskin and his cane on the divan and went into the room
of seance, savagely biting at a piece of apparently indestructible
chewing-gum.

The torn green curtain had been laid aside and the electric lights
turned on in the inside rooms. Pallid, Sir Lucien Pyne lay by the ebony
chair glaring horribly upward.

Always with the keen eyes glancing this way and that, Inspector Kerry
crossed the little audience room and entered the enclosure contained
between the two screens. By the side of the dead man he stood, looking
down silently. Then he dropped upon one knee and peered closely into the
white face. He looked up.

"He has not been moved?"

"No."

Kerry bent yet lower, staring closely at a discolored abrasion on Sir
Lucien's forehead. His glance wandered from thence to the carved ebony
chair. Still kneeling, he drew from his waistcoat pocket a powerful lens
contained in a washleather bag. He began to examine the back and sides
of the chair. Once he laid his finger lightly on a protruding point
of the carving, and then scrutinised his finger through the glass. He
examined the dead man's hands, his nails, his garments. Then he crawled
about, peering closely at the carpet.

He stood up suddenly