“Empty!” echoed Wyndham dazedly. “At this hour?” and his glance roved about the hall, taking in the still burning acetylene gas jet at the far end of the hall, its artificial rays hardly showing in the increasing daylight. How could the household remain asleep with that ghastly tragedy so close at hand? He shuddered and turned half appealingly to Vera. “What’s to be done?” “The coroner--” “To be sure, the coroner”--Wyndham snatched at the suggestion. “Do you know his name?” “No,” Vera shook her head, “but I can ask ‘Central.’ I presume the coroner lives in Alexandria.” “Yes, yes.” Wyndham was in a fever of unrest, chafing one hand over the other. “Then will you call him? I’ll wait here until you return.” Vera did not at once move down the hall. “Had I not better awaken Mrs. Porter?” she asked. “No, no,” Wyndham spoke with more show of authority. “I will break the news to my aunt when you get back. The telephone is in the library. Go there.” He was doubtful if she heard his parting injunction for, hurrying to the stairway, she paused and moved as if to enter Mrs. Porter’s boudoir, the door of which stood ajar; then apparently thinking better of her evident intention, she went noiselessly downstairs and Wyndham, listening intently, detected the faint sound made by the closing of a door on the floor below. Not until then did he relax his tense attitude. Stepping back into Brainard’s bedroom he closed the door softly and stood contemplating his surroundings, his eyes darting here and there until each detail of the large handsomely furnished bedroom was indelibly fixed in his mind. There was no sign of a struggle having taken place; the two high-backed chairs and the lounge stood in their accustomed places; the quaint Colonial dresser near the window, the highboy against the farther wall, and the bed-table were undisturbed. Only the bed with its motionless burden was tossed and tumbled. Wyndham hastily averted his eyes, but not before he had seen the opened razor lying on the sheet to the left of Brainard and just beyond the grasp of the stiffened fingers. Drawing in his breath with a hissing noise, Wyndham retreated to his post outside the door and waited with ever increasing impatience for the return of Vera Deane.