place after the telephone call?"

"Well, he told me to wait up, and I was dozing in the next room to the
study--the dining-room--when the 'phone bell aroused me. I heard the
lieutenant--Mr. Slattin, coming out, and I ran out too, but only in time
to see him taking his hat from the rack--"

"But he wears no hat!"

"He never got it off the peg! Just as he reached up to take it, he gave
a most frightful scream, and turned around like lightning as though some
one had attacked him from behind!"

"There was no one else in the hall?"

"No one at all. I was standing down there outside the dining-room just
by the stairs, but he didn't turn in my direction, he turned and looked
right behind him--where there was no one--nothing. His cries were
frightful." Burke's voice broke, and he shuddered feverishly. "Then he
made a rush for the front door. It seemed as though he had not seen me.
He stood there screaming; but, before I could reach him, he fell...."

Nayland Smith fixed a piercing gaze upon Burke.

"Is that all you know?" he demanded slowly.

"As God is my judge, sir, that's all I know, and all I saw. There was no
living thing near him when he met his death."

"We shall see," muttered Smith. He turned to me--"What killed him?" he
asked, shortly.

"Apparently, a minute wound on the left wrist," I replied, and,
stooping, I raised the already cold hand in mine.

A tiny, inflamed wound showed on the wrist; and a certain puffiness was
becoming observable in the injured hand and arm. Smith bent down and
drew a quick, sibilant breath.

"You know what this is, Petrie?" he cried.

"Certainly. It was too late to employ a ligature and useless to inject
ammonia. Death was practically instantaneous. His heart..."

There came a loud knocking and ringing.

"Carter!" cried Smith, turning to the detective, "open that door to no
one--no one. Explain who I am--"

"But if it is the inspector?--"

"I said, open the door to no one!" snapped Smith.

"Burke, stand exactly where you are! Carter, you can speak to whoever
knocks, through the letter-box. Petrie, don't move for your life! It may
be here, in the hallway!--"

CHAPTER IX. THE CLIMBER

Our search of the house of Abel Slattin ceased only with the coming of
the dawn, and yielded nothing but disappointment. Failure followed upon
failure; for, in the gray light of the morning, our own quest concluded,
Inspector Weymouth returned to report that the girl, Karamaneh, ha