"That'll do. Rum name," he muttered; and following the lady, who led the way with a chamber candlestick in past the open door of a gloomy-looking dining-room, constable John Whyley found himself at the end of a passage to the left, in front of a half-glass door, whose panes were covered on the other side by a thick dark blind. "My father's surgery," said the lady in answer to an inquiring look. The constable nodded, and tried the door twice before kneeling down and holding his light to the key hole. "Key in," he said gruffly, "locked inside. Who's likely to be here?" "My father. He always sits in the consulting-room beyond at night-- studying." Another short nod, and the constable rapped loudly. No response. He rapped again, with the same result. Then he drew a long breath, and the man showed that he possessed feeling as well as decision. "I don't want to alarm you, Miss, but I ought to force open this door." "But you do alarm me, man. Yes, you are right. No! let me come." She rapped smartly on the door. "Father! Father! Are you here?" Still no reply; and she drew back, looking wildly in the constable's eyes, while her hands seemed as if drawn together to clasp each other and cheek the nervous trembling and be of mutual support. "Yes," she said, "force it open. Stop! break one of the panes." The constable leaned his shoulder against the pane nearest the lock, and there was a sharp crackling noise, the splintered glass being caught by the blind inside; but as the man thrust his hand through the great hole he had made, to draw the blind on one side, a fragment or two fell, making a musical tinkling. The man's next act was to take his lantern from his belt, and pass it through, directing the light in all directions, as he peered through the glass above, and then he withdrew the light with a low "Ha!" "What can you see?" "Hold hard, please, Miss, and keep back. This isn't ladies' work. I want some help here." "Then something has happened?" "Well, Miss, seeing what I did see to-night, it may be nothing worse than a drop too much, but it looks ugly." "Who is it? My father?" "Can't say, Miss. Elderly gent with bald head." "Oh, what you say is possible! Quick! burst open the door!" The constable placed his shoulder to the door, but drew back with an angry gesture. "Of course!" he muttered, and thrusting his arm through, he reached the lock, turned the key, and the door swung open with a dismal creak. "Now, Miss, I'll see first, and come back and tell you." "Man! do you think I am a child?" was the sharp reply; and rushing by him, the speaker passed into the room, and went down upon her knees directly beside a figure in a shabby old dressing-gown, lying face downward on the floor. "Is he--" "Quick! turn on that gas."