waiting for a gentleman for two days.’

 

“‘Where is he now?’ I asked.

 

“‘He is upstairs in bed. He wished to be called at nine.’

 

“‘I will go up and see him at once,’ I said.

 

“It seemed to me that my sudden appearance might shake his nerves and lead him

to say something unguarded. The Boots volunteered to show me the room: it was on

the second floor, and there was a small corridor leading up to it. The Boots

pointed out the door to me, and was about to go downstairs again when I saw

something that made me feel sickish, in spite of my twenty years’ experience.

From under the door there curled a little red ribbon of blood, which had

meandered across the passage and formed a little pool along the skirting at the

other side.

 

I gave a cry, which brought the Boots back. He nearly fainted when he saw it.

The door was locked on the inside, but we put our shoulders to it, and knocked

it in. The window of the room was open, and beside the window, all huddled up,

lay the body of a man in his nightdress. He was quite dead, and had been for

some time, for his limbs were rigid and cold. When we turned him over, the Boots

recognized him at once as being the same gentleman who had engaged the room

under the name of Joseph Stangerson. The cause of death was a deep stab in the

left side, which must have penetrated the heart. And now comes the strangest