He saw a vault which he guessed was about ten feet long by eight feet wide. Fixed to the rough walls were a number of steel shelves, loaded up with black iron boxes. A brilliant light came from a globe in the vaulted roof, and he saw plainly. At the farther end of the room was a plain table, but it was not at this he was looking, but at the figure crouched against one of its legs. The face was turned in his direction. It was the face of Jesse Trasmere and he was dead. VI Tab gave way to the detective and waited whilst Carver looked. “There’s no sign of a weapon--but by the smell there has been some shooting,” he said. “What is that on the table?” Tab peered through the ventilator. “It looks like a key to me,” he said. They tried the door, but it resisted their combined weight. “The door is much too thick and the lock too strong for us to force,” said Carver at last. “I’ll telephone headquarters, Tab. See what you can get out of your friend.” “I don’t think he’ll tell me much for some time. Come along, Babe,” said Tab kindly, taking the other’s arm. “Let us get out of this beastly atmosphere.” Unresisting, Rex Lander allowed himself to be led back to the dining-room, where he dropped into a chair. Carver had finished his telephoning and had returned long before Rex had recovered sufficiently to give a coherent narrative. His face was blanched, he could not control his quivering lips, and it was a considerable time before he could tell his patient hearers all that he knew. “I came to the house this afternoon by appointment,” he said. “My uncle had written to me asking me to see him about an application which I had made to him for a loan. He had previously rejected my request, but as had often happened, he relented at the last moment, for he was not a bad man at heart. As I was pressing the bell, the door opened and I saw Walters--Walters is my uncle’s valet.” The detective nodded. “He looked terribly agitated, and he had a brown leather bag in his hand. ‘I am just going out, Mr. Lander,’ he said--” “Did he seem surprised to see you?” “He seemed alarmed,” said Rex. “It struck me when I saw him that my uncle must be ill and I asked him if anything was the matter. He said that my uncle was well but he had sent him on a very important errand. The conversation did not last more than a minute, for Walters ran down the steps and into the road before I could recover from my amazement.” “He wore no hat?” asked Carver. Rex shook his head.