“Nothing, sir,” and the butler straightened up quickly and stood at attention. “Leave the room, and do not return here without permission. Serve breakfast to the ladies. Where is Nogi?” “He is gone, sir.” “Gone where?” “That I do not know. Last night he was here. Now he is gone. I know no more.” “You don’t know anything. Get out.” “Yes, sir.” Left to himself, Gordon Lockwood gazed thoughtfully about the room. He did not confine his attention to the bent figure of his late employer, nor even to the desk or its nearby surroundings. He wandered about looking at the windows, the floor, the furniture. One chair, standing rather near the desk, he looked at intently. An expression of bewilderment came into his face, followed by a look of dismay. Then, after a cautious almost furtive glance about him, he passed his hand quickly over the plush back of the chair, rubbing it hard, with a scrubbing motion. Then he looked about the room even more eagerly and carefully, and finally sat down in the same plush chair, to await the Doctor’s arrival. Helen Peyton came timidly to the door to ask him to come to breakfast. “No, Helen,” he answered. “My place is here until the Doctor comes. Eat your breakfast, child, and try to throw off your distress. It will do you no good to brood over it. You can be of real help if you keep brave and calm, but it will be quite otherwise if you get hysterical.” He did not see the adoring glance she gave him, nor did he realize how much effect his words had on her subsequent behavior. For Helen Peyton was suffering from shocked nerves, and only Lockwood’s advice would have been heeded by her. She returned to the dining room, saying, quietly, “Gordon will come after a while. Let us eat our breakfast, mother, and try to be brave and strong.” It was not more than fifteen minutes later that Lockwood joined them. He took his seat at the table and as he shook out his breakfast napkin he said, “Doctor Greenfield is there now. He says Doctor Waring was stabbed not shot. He says the instrument was round and pointed—not flat, like a knife.” “Who did it?” asked Helen, wide-eyed. “It must have been suicide, Helen, for, as you know, the room was locked. How could any one get in or out?” “But how absurd to think of Doctor Waring killing himself!” The girl looked more amazed than ever. “He never killed himself,” stated Mrs. Peyton. “Why, you know that man had everything to live for! Just about to be married, just about to be President of the College—full of life and enthusiasm—suicide! Nonsense!” “I’m only telling you what the doctor said. And you know yourselves, the room was all locked up.” “Yes, that’s so. Ito, leave the room!” Mrs. Peyton spoke sharply to the butler, who was quite evidently drinking in the conversation. “He must not hear all we say,” she observed after the butler had disappeared. “What’s this about Nogi being gone?” asked Lockwood, suddenly.