And finally he went to the bed, and put his hand upon it. Then he started back with a cry of terror. He had touched something warm and moist and sticky. He rushed out into the hall, and as he looked at his hand he nearly fainted. It was a mass of blood! “Help! Help!” the boy screamed; and he turned and rushed down the stairs into the office. The proprietor came running in. “Look!” shouted Samuel. “Look what she's done!” “Good God!” cried the man. And he rushed upstairs, the other following. With trembling fingers the man lit the gas; and Samuel took one look, and then turned away and caught at a table, sick with horror. The girl was lying in the midst of a pool of blood; and across her throat, from ear to ear, was a great gaping slit. “Oh! oh!” gasped Samuel, and then--“I can't stand it!” And holding out one hand from him, he hid his face with the other. Meantime the proprietor was staring at him. “See here, young fellow,” he said. “What is it?” asked Samuel. “When did you find out about this?” “Why, just now. When I came in.” “You've been out?” “Why of course. I went out just after we came.” “I didn't see you.” “No. I stopped in the office, but you weren't there.” “Humph!” said the man, “maybe you did and maybe you didn't. You can tell it to the police.” “The police!” echoed Samuel; and then in sudden horror--“Do you think _I_ did it?” “I don't know anything about it,” replied the other. “I only know you brought her here, and that you'll stay here till the police come.” By this time several people had come into the room, awakened by the noise. Samuel, without a word more, went and sank down into a chair and waited. And half an hour later he was on his way to the station house again--this time with a policeman on either side of him, and gripping him very tightly. And now the charge against him was murder! CHAPTER XIII The same corpulent official was seated behind the desk at the police station; but on this occasion he woke up promptly. “The chief had better handle this,” he said, and went to the telephone. “Where's this chap to go?” asked one of the policemen. “We're full up,” said the sergeant. “Put him in with Charlie Swift. The chief'll be over in a few minutes.” So once more Samuel was led into a cell, and heard the door clang upon him. He was really not much alarmed this time, for he knew it was not his fault, and that he could prove it. But he was sick with horror at the fate of the unhappy girl. He began pacing back and forth in his cell. Then suddenly from one corner growled a voice: “Say, when are you going to get quiet?” “Oh, I beg pardon,” said Samuel. “I didn't know you were here.” “What are you in for?” asked the voice. “For murder,” said Samuel. And he heard the cot give a sudden creak as the man sat up. “What!” he gasped. “I didn't do it,” the boy explained hastily. “She killed herself.” “Where was this?” asked the man. “At the Continental Hotel.” “And what did you have to do with it?”