“I think I’ll go up and tell my aunt myself,” said Bates, thoughtfully. “You stay here by—by the body, Doctor. And, I say,—what—how was he killed?” “Stabbed,” said the doctor, shortly. “What with?” “I don’t know,—except that it was with a sharp blade of some sort. There’s no weapon in sight.” “No weapon! How queer!” “Queer or not, I can’t find any. It’s a pretty strange affair, to my mind. Yes, I’ll stay here, you go and tell your aunt’s people, and,—Moore, you come right back after you take Mr Bates up.” In silence the return trip was made in the elevator, for Bates was thinking how he should break the news to the two excitable women upstairs, and Bob Moore’s thoughts were in such a riot, that he was trying hard to straighten them out. In front of Miss Prall’s bedroom door, her nephew hesitated for some time before knocking. Not only was his courage weak but his brain was receiving so many sudden jolts that he could scarcely control his voice. Why, now, he was his uncle’s heir. Unless he had already changed that will! Had he? At last, with a gentle knock, repeated more loudly, and finally with a fusillade of raps, he succeeded in rousing Miss Prall, who demanded, with asperity, “Who’s there?” “Me; Rick. Open the door, please.” “What’s the matter? You sick?” his aunt exclaimed, as she unlocked her door. “No; now, listen, Aunt Letitia, and don’t faint—for anything. Uncle Binney is—has been—why, somebody killed him!” “Killed him! Is he dead?” “Yes, ma’am”; both were unaware of the absurdity of the words, “he’s downstairs,—in the lobby,—and he’s been stabbed.” Richard’s teeth were chattering from the tension of his nerves, and the horror of the situation, but Miss Prall’s nerves were strong ones, and she said, “I’ll dress and go right down. And I’ll tell Eliza,—you needn’t. Go in the living-room and wait for me there.” Rather relieved at not being sent back downstairs and decidedly willing to let his aunt break the news to Miss Gurney, Bates went to his own room and added some finishing touches to the hasty toilet he had made. Then he awaited his aunt, as directed, and in an incredibly short time she appeared, all dressed and impatient to go downstairs. “We won’t wait for Eliza,” she said; “come along. Oh, no, wait a minute!” She returned to her bedroom, and shortly reappeared. Her vigorous push of the elevator button brought Moore quickly, and he took them down. Miss Prall strode rapidly along the lobby and spoke brusquely to the doctor. “What are you doing? Why do you touch him before the police arrive?” “Good Lord, how you startled me!” exclaimed Doctor Pagett, who in his absorption had not heard her approach. “I have a perfect right to examine the body, ma’am,” he went on indignantly. “Do you suppose I don’t know my business?” “I’ve always heard no one must touch a murdered man until——” “Then how are we to know it is a murder?” he countered, looking at her keenly. “Will you read that paper, Miss Prall? Don’t touch it!”