But the constable was not satisfied yet; he kept peering about, made his way to the iron door, and then dropped upon his knees. "Here you are, sir," he cried. "They've put the body in here, it seems to me, for there's a tiny smutch just against the edge. There's been murder done." "You're right, Joe," cried the superintendent, sharply; "but where are the men? You stay here, I'll have the place searched again." Every nook and corner of the basement was examined without result, and then the rest of the house was carefully gone over once more, but the place proved to be empty, and the superintendent returned to where his sentry was on duty. "Made anything out, sir?" "No." "What about the roof? Must be a trap, and they've got through there." "There is a trap, my lad, but the cobwebs over it show that it can't have been opened to-day." "What about the cellar, sir?" "I have searched all but the wine cellars, and we can't break in there. I've sent orders to find out who lives here and telegraph to the family to come up." "But you won't wait, sir, before getting this iron door open?" "No, I sha'n't wait for that." "That's right, sir. They've killed the poor lady I saw, I'm afraid, and she's lying in there. That must be a bit of her dress." There was no further hesitation. Suitable workmen were obtained, and after many hours' toil the great iron door was drilled and prised off, the police stepping forward at once to raise the body they expected to find, and then standing dumbfounded at seeing that there were a couple of shelves upon one side. The rest of the iron closet was perfectly empty. A little further investigation by the aid of lights soon showed, though, that the supposed strong-room full of costly jewels and plate was only the entrance to another place, one side forming a door. This was attacked in turn, and after a long resistance was forced off by the workmen, and once more the police advanced on the tip-toe of expectation, to find themselves in a passage leading into a crypt-like chamber which had evidently been carefully elaborated out of the old cellarage, traces of which still remained. But there was no sign of occupation, and for a few moments the police hesitated as to which of the two closed doors they should attack. These were both of iron, which, like those of the safe they had passed through, were evidently of Belgian manufacture, from the name embossed thereon. But the hesitation soon passed away, for while one proved to be locked the other was unfastened, and after leaving a couple of men on guard, the superintendent passed on, leading the way through the farther door. Beyond was a dark passage cumbered with packing-cases, stacked on one side from floor to ceiling, while on turning into another passage which ran at right angles, they came upon a couple of heavy chests in the course of being unpacked, a heap of old books standing upon the corner of one.