"Good Lord!" he said. "You're right. One of the Chinamen!" The full moon was high in a cloudless sky by that time, and its rays fell full on a yellow face--and on a dark gash that showed itself in the yellow neck below. Whoever this man was, he had been killed by a savage knifethrust that had gone straight and unerringly through the jugular vein. Ayscough pointed to a dark wide stain which showed on the earth at the foot of the bushes. "Stabbed!" he muttered. "Stabbed to death! And dragged in here--look at that--and that!" He turned, pointing to more stains on the gravelled path behind them--stains which extended, at intervals, almost to the entrance door in the outer wall. And then he drew a box of matches from his pocket, and striking one, went closer and held the light down to the dead man's face. Melky, edging closer to his elbow, looked, too. "One of those Chinamen, without a doubt!" said Ayscough, as the match flickered and died out. "Or, at any rate, a Chinaman. And--he's been dead some days! Well!--this is a go!" "What's to be done?" asked Melky. "It's murder!" Ayscough looked around him. He was wondering how it was that a dead man could lie in that garden, close to a busy thoroughfare, along which a regular stream of traffic of all descriptions was constantly passing, for several days, undetected. But a quick inspection of the surroundings explained matters. The house itself filled up one end of the garden; the other three sides were obscured from the adjacent houses and from the street by high walls, high trees, thick bushes. The front gate was locked or latched--no one had entered--no one, save the owner of the knife that had dealt that blow, had known a murdered man lay there behind the laurels. Only the rat, started by Melky's footsteps, had known. "Stay here!" said Ayscough. "Well--inside the gate, then--don't come out--I don't want to attract attention. There'll be a constable somewhere about." He walked down to the iron-work gate, Melky following close at his heels, found and unfastened the patent latch, and slipped out into the road. In two minutes he was back again with a policeman. He motioned the man inside and once more fastened the door. "As you know this beat," he said quietly, as if continuing a conversation already begun, "you'll know the two Chinese gentlemen who have this house?" "Seen 'em--yes," replied the policeman. "Two quiet little fellows--seen 'em often--generally of an evening." "Have you seen anything of them lately?" asked Ayscough. "Well, now I come to think of it, no, I haven't," answered the policeman. "Not for some days." "Have you noticed that the house was shut up--that there were no lights in the front windows?" enquired the detective. "Why, as a matter of fact, Mr. Ayscough," said the policeman, "you never do see any lights here--the windows are shuttered. I know that, because I used to give a look round when the house was empty."