"Of course," agreed Vantine, with a sigh of relief, "that's the explanation. Only I wish he had chosen some place else. I suppose we shall have to call the police, Lester?" "Yes," I said, "and the coroner. Suppose you leave it to me. We'll lock up this room, and nobody must leave the house until the police arrive." "Very well," assented Vantine, visibly relieved, "I'll see to that," and he hastened away, while I went to the 'phone, called up police headquarters, and told briefly what had happened. Twenty minutes later, there was a ring at the bell, and Parks opened the door and admitted four men. "Why, hello, Simmonds," I said, recognising in the first one the detective-sergeant who had assisted in clearing up the Marathon mystery. And back of him was Coroner Goldberger, whom I had met in two previous cases; while the third countenance, looking at me with a quizzical smile, was that of Jim Godfrey, the _Record's_ star reporter. The fourth man was a policeman in uniform, who, at a word from Simmonds, took his station at the door. "Yes," said Godfrey, as we shook hands, "I happened to be talking to Simmonds when the call came in, and I thought I might as well come along. What is it?" "Just a suicide, I think," and I unlocked the door into the room where the dead man lay. Simmonds, Goldberger and Godfrey stepped inside. I followed and closed the door. "Nothing has been disturbed," I said. "No one has touched the body." Simmonds nodded, and glanced inquiringly about the room; but Godfrey's eyes, I noticed, were on the face of the dead man. Goldberger dropped to his knees beside the body, looked into the eyes and touched his fingers to the left wrist. Then he stood erect again and looked down at the body, and as I followed his gaze, I noted its attitude more accurately than I had done in the first shock of discovering it. It was lying on its right side, half on its stomach, with its right arm doubled under it, and its left hand clutching at the floor above its head. The knees were drawn up as though in a convulsion, and the face was horribly contorted, with a sort of purple tinge under the skin, as though the blood had been suddenly congealed. The eyes were wide open, and their glassy stare added not a little to the apparent terror and suffering of the face. It was not a pleasant sight, and after a moment, I turned my eyes away with a shiver of repugnance. The coroner glanced at Simmonds. "Not much question as to the cause," he said. "Poison of course." "Of course," nodded Simmonds. "But what kind?" asked Godfrey. "It will take a post-mortem to tell that," and Goldberger bent for another close look at the distorted face. "I'm free to admit the symptoms aren't the usual ones." Godfrey shrugged his shoulders. "I should say not," he agreed, and turned away to an inspection of the room. "What can you tell us about it, Mr. Lester?" Goldberger questioned.