The significance of this was that cement-making is not really a dangerous trade, and that there were many doctors practising nearer to Rickmansworth. One night, a few weeks later, a man drove up in a cab, presented Rolf’s card to Dr Grady, and said his services were required at the cement works for one of the workmen, who had met with an accident. Grady at once put his instruments together and drove with Rolf’s representative to Baker Street. The unnamed agent then accompanied him by rail to Rickmansworth. In the darkness of the sultry night, he was conducted to his doom. The house of which Rolf was the tenant was approached by a lonely lane on the outskirts of the little town. The two men were seen to enter by the front door, and a labourer who was approaching at no great distance declared that he heard a smothered cry, followed by heavy blows, and then a fall. His statement was not made known until some time had elapsed, as almost immediately after hearing these ominous sounds, he was knocked down and stunned by a motor-car. Meanwhile the packing-case had been brought from Red Lion Street to Rickmansworth. The day after the crime, it was removed in a wagon. The wagon was seen again later, but in the interval the packing-case had vanished. It was found, empty, on the following day near Northwood. Grady’s clothes were found in a portmanteau in a neighbouring sewer, and the portmanteau was afterwards identified as one that Featherstone--_alias_ Rolf--had bought and taken to his rooms in London. Finally, the naked body of poor Grady was discovered in a backwater of the River Colne. The head of the unfortunate man showed cuts and wounds in quite a dozen different places. He had been brutally and determinedly done to death. The police now overhauled the house at Rickmansworth, and there found other signs of an awful struggle and a cruel crime. Futile efforts had been made to paint out the blood-stains on the floor. From the house, the examinations were extended to the sheds and workshops, and though there were signs of removal and attempted concealment, enough remained to show that the place was in truth designed for the manufacture of bombs and other murderous explosives. There were invoices, letters, and receipts imperfectly destroyed by fire, that showed the harmless “cement-maker” to be a buyer of sulphuric acid, mercury, picric acid, saltpetre, and other ingredients of explosive compositions. These and other facts the inquest brought to light, partly owing to the self-importance of a fussy coroner, who disallowed the efforts of the police to keep back certain features of the ghastly story. Meanwhile the murderers, who obviously had command of ample funds, had fled the country.