ne as he sat writing in his chair," he muttered. "Look--the
pen's fallen from his fingers as he fell forward. Queer!"

A policeman came hurrying into the room, pulling himself up as he saw
what was there. His voice instinctively hushed.

"Dr. Wellesley's just gone down Meadow Gate, sir," he announced.
"They've sent for him to come here at once."

"Unless!" murmured the superintendent. "Still----"

Then the five or six men present stood, silently waiting. Some stared
about the room, as if wondering at its secret: some occasionally took
covert glances at its central figure. One of the three high, narrow
windows was open: Brent distinctly heard the murmur of children playing
in the streets outside. And suddenly, from the tower of St. Hathelswide,
at the other end of the market-place, curfew began to ring.

"He's coming, sir!" whispered the policeman who stood near the door. "On
the stairs, sir."

Brent turned as Dr. Wellesley came hurrying into the room; a tall,
clean-shaven, fresh-coloured man, who went straight to the desk, looked
at what he found there, and turned quickly on the men grouped around.

"How long is it since he was found?" he asked abruptly.

"Ten or twelve minutes," answered Brent.

"Dead then?"

"Yes," said Brent. "I should say--of course, I don't speak
professionally--but I should think he'd been dead at least half an
hour."

The doctor glanced at the superintendent.

"We must have him taken down to the mortuary," he said. "Let some of you
men stay here with me, and send another for my assistant and for Dr.
Barber."

The superintendent gave some orders, and touching Brent's arm motioned
him to follow outside the room.

"This is a bad business, Mr. Brent!" he said as they paused at the head
of the stair. "That's murder, sir! But how on earth did the murderer get
in there? Bunning tells me that he himself was standing outside the iron
gates at the entrance to the Moot Hall from the time the Mayor entered
until you came. He asserts that nobody entered the place by those
gates."

"I suppose there are other means of entrance?" suggested Brent.

"Doubtful if anybody could get in by them at this hour of the evening,"
answered the superintendent. "But there are two ways by which anybody
could get to the Mayor's Parlour. They're both what you might call
complicated. I'll show you them. Come this way."

He led Brent across a corridor that branched off from the head of the
stone staircase, and