ndled life-preserver
hanging by a twisted thong from his wrist.

The hideous stains upon the kukri were clearly enough explained by the
sight of a terrible gash in the man's throat, and one of his hands was
crimsoned and smeared--the one that had left its print upon the quilt,
as, in his death struggle, he had rolled beneath the bed.

"No one else there, gentleman," said the constable, looking beneath the
bed and making his lantern play there and about the curtains, whilst as
it shed its keen light across the calm, sleeping face of the Colonel,
the man involuntarily took off his helmet and stepped back on tiptoe.

"Dead some hours," said the doctor, rising.

"It is clear enough," said Mr Girtle, in the midst of the painful
silence. "This poor Hindoo was the faithful old servant of my deceased
friend, and he died in defence of his master's property."

"Yes, yes," cried the old butler, excitedly. "Charles used to talk
about master's money and diamonds in the servants' hall. I used to
reprove him, and say that talking about such things was tempting
yourself."

"Never asked you to be in it, of course?" said the constable, going
close up to him.

"Oh, no; never, sir; but are you quite sure both him and Mr Ramo are
dead?"

"Quite," said the constable. "There, you can say what you like, but
it's my duty to tell you that I shall take down anything you say, and it
may be used in evidence against you."

"Against me!" cried the butler.

"Yes, against you."

But there was no occasion for the note-book, for Preenham closed his
lips and did not speak again.

"I think I will satisfy myself, constable, that all is safe here," said
Mr Girtle. "Gentlemen, will you come with me?"

He crossed the room, drew back the curtain over the portal and, taking
out his keys, unlocked and pushed back the door, descending with the
others into the vault-like chamber and examining the massive iron
structure in the middle.

"It is quite safe," he said, as the constable made the light of his
lantern play here and there.

"But you have not looked in the safe," said Artis, quickly.

"There is no need, sir. No one could have opened it, even with the
keys, but Ramo or myself. Nothing has been touched."

The policeman drew a long breath and they returned to the death-chamber,
Mr Girtle carefully locking the iron door.

"I don't think we shall want any detectives here, gentlemen," said the
constable; "I shall stay on the premises,