As suddenly as it had risen the wind sank; the streets were silent, the houses gloomy as rows of sepulchres tenanted only by the departed; and as the day broke, cold and grey, light fleecy clouds gathered over the waning moon. Twice the constable tugged at the bell in his efforts to awaken the inmates of the house, but all was still, save for the bark of a distant dog. Although we both strained our ears, no sounds of life were apparent within. "Shall I go round to the station for help? I can find it if you will direct me," I said to the man. "No; you stay 'ere. There's no necessity," replied he gruffly. "I'll soon call my mates," and applying his whistle to his lips, he blew a series of shrill calls, which were immediately answered by others. Ten minutes later three policemen had arrived, and, finding there was no entrance from the rear, had burst open the door. The houses adjoining were both empty, so no neighbours were awakened by the noise. We entered undisturbed. From the spacious hall several doors opened right and left; while immediately opposite was a broad staircase. With but a hasty glance around we passed to a door which stood open, and from which a flood of light was issuing. There our eyes encountered a terrible sight. Lying on her back upon the carpet, with her arms outstretched above her head, was a tall and undeniably beautiful woman of about thirty years of age. Her wealth of fair hair had become unfastened, and fell in disorder about her bare shoulders. Her lips were still apart, as if in her last moments she had uttered a cry, and her clear blue eyes, wide open, had in them a stony stare--that of death. Attired in an elegant evening dress of soft white silk, her low bodice revealed the fatal wound in her breast from which the blood slowly oozed, forming a dark crimson pool upon the carpet. Upon her wrist was a splendid diamond bracelet of an uncommon pattern, for it was shaped to represent a double-headed snake, and under the gaslight the gems danced and gleamed with a thousand fires. The appearance of the murdered woman was hideous enough in itself, but something else we saw startled us, and sent an increased thrill of horror through our nerves. We were awe-struck by the sight of it, yet there was nothing extraordinarily revolting--merely a half sheet of notepaper upon which was a large red seal of a peculiar character, fastened to the breast of the dress. "Good God! The Seal!" It was the ejaculation of one of the constables as he knelt and unpinned the paper. Breathlessly, we bent over the piece of paper and closely examined it, for we were all aware of the unparalleled and inexplicable mysteries with which not only London but the whole world was ringing. It had an awful significance. That its exact dimensions and strange hieroglyphics may be the more readily conceived, I reproduce it here:--