When it had been broken down, the interior of the laboratory showed how fierce the fire had been. Every trace of wood had been consumed, and solid metal fittings had been melted into unrecognizable shapes. Among the debris on the floor lay a charred human skeleton, upon one of the fingers of which was a half-melted gold ring, of which enough remained for the superintendent to identify it as having been habitually worn by Morlandson. The remains of the unfortunate man were huddled up by the door, the key of which was in the lock. It was clear that Morlandson had tried to make his way out when the fire broke out, but had been overcome by the fumes of the burning chemicals before he could achieve his purpose. He had been in the habit of locking the door in order to secure himself from interruption. “You have made notes upon this?” asked the Professor. “Good. File them away. I confess that there are many things about this man Morlandson which I do not yet understand. I was able to supplement your account of the trial by an examination of the original records, which I was allowed to make. These gave me considerable food for thought. I believe that, through a pure accident, I have stumbled upon one of the most curious occurrences of modern times. I can, as yet, only conjecture, and so far my conjectures are wholly unsupported by fact. Much research will be necessary before these facts can be established, and it is possible that I may not be spared for a sufficient time to carry out this research.” “Not be spared, sir!” exclaimed Harold, startled by the grave tone of the Professor’s voice. “Why, you have many years before you yet, I hope.” “Death comes to us all, sooner, perhaps, than we expect,” replied Dr. Priestley. “And I feel, this evening, that death may be closer to me than I have supposed. Ah, do I hear someone in the hall?” With a nervous movement, entirely foreign to him, Dr. Priestley rose from his chair and stood facing the door. Harold, with a queer feeling of expectation, walked towards it and opened it. In the hall stood Inspector Hanslet, handing his coat and hat to Mary. “Good evening, Mr. Merefield, I thought I’d look round and see if the Professor had any information for me,” he said. “May I see him?” “Yes, come in by all means,” replied Harold, with a sudden sense of relief. “But I shouldn’t stay too long, if I were you. He’s rather tired and nervy to-night.” Hanslet nodded, and Harold led the way into the study. “It’s Inspector Hanslet, sir,” he said. The Professor appeared to have entirely recovered his usual equanimity. “Ah, good evening, Inspector,” he said blandly. “I half expected that you would be round this evening. I am very glad to see you.”