one descended; that there was no
one in the hall nor on the stair, except Mr. Leroux and Dr. Cumberly."

"Ah!" said Dunbar again, and made further entries in his book. "I need
not trouble you further, sir. Good night!"

Exel, despite his earlier attitude of boredom, now ignored this official
dismissal, and, tossing the stump of his cigar into the grate, lighted a
cigarette, and with both hands thrust deep in his pockets, stood leaning
back against the mantelpiece. The detective turned to Leroux.

"Have a brandy-and-soda?" suggested Dr. Cumberly, his eyes turned upon
the pathetic face of the novelist.

But Leroux shook his head, wearily.

"Go ahead, Inspector!" he said. "I am anxious to tell you all I know.
God knows I am anxious to tell you."

A sound was heard of a key being inserted in the lock of a door.

Four pairs of curious eyes were turned toward the entrance lobby, when
the door opened, and a sleek man of medium height, clean shaven, but
with his hair cut low upon the cheek bones, so as to give the impression
of short side-whiskers, entered in a manner at once furtive and servile.

He wore a black overcoat and a bowler hat. Reclosing the door, he
turned, perceived the group in the study, and fell back as though
someone had struck him a fierce blow.

Abject terror was written upon his features, and, for a moment, the idea
of flight appeared to suggest itself urgently to him; but finally, he
took a step forward toward the study.

"Who's this?" snapped Dunbar, without removing his leonine eyes from the
newcomer.

"It is Soames," came the weary voice of Leroux.

"Butler?"

"Yes."

"Where's he been?"

"I don't know. He remained out without my permission."

"He did, eh?"

Inspector Dunbar thrust forth a long finger at the shrinking form in the
doorway.

"Mr. Soames," he said, "you will be going to your own room and waiting
there until I ring for you."

"Yes, sir," said Soames, holding his hat in both bands, and speaking
huskily. "Yes, sir: certainly, sir."

He crossed the lobby and disappeared.

"There is no other way out, is there?" inquired the detective, glancing
at Dr. Cumberly.

"There is no other way," was the reply; "but surely you don't
suspect"...

"I would suspect the Archbishop of Westminster," snapped Dunbar, "if
he came in like that! Now, sir,"--he turned to Leroux--"you were alone,
here, to-night?"

"Quite alone, Inspector. The truth is, I fear, that my servants take
lib