But what we saw within the fine, solidly-furnished dining-room, with its carved buffet filled with antique shining silver, was so unexpected that even my companion gave vent to an exclamation of amazement. Upon the dark carpet near the empty grate, her head pillowed upon a yellow silken cushion, lay a very pretty, fair-haired girl of about twenty-two. Her hat was off, otherwise she was in walking dress, with a short fur jacket and a fine blue fox boa, which, loosened, showed the delicacy of her white throat. Her face contour was bloodless; but all one side of her face was swollen, disfigured, and white as marble. "Great heavens!" cried Kirk, as he fell on his knees beside her and grasped her hands. "Why, look! She's been disfigured, just as her father has been!" And he bent until his ear was against her heart. "Get me that little mirror from the wall--over there, Mr. Holford. Quick!" he urged. I sprang to do his bidding, and he placed against her mouth the little carved bracket wherein the square of looking-glass was set. When he withdrew it, it was unclouded. "She may not be dead?" I exclaimed. "Shall I go for a doctor?" "No," Kirk snarled; "we want no doctors poking their noses about here. This is a matter which concerns only myself, Mr. Holford!" And he bent to the prostrate girl to make a more minute investigation in a manner which showed me that he understood the various symptoms of death. "As you know, signore," Antonio said, "Miss Ethelwynn left last night to stay at her aunt's, Lady Mellor's, in Upper Brook Street, and I have not seen her since, until ten minutes ago I chanced to enter here, when, to my amazement, I found her lying just as you see her, except that I put the pillow beneath her head before telephoning for you. I didn't know whom to call." "You've told no one else of this?" Kirk asked quickly. "Only my brother, signore. He's staying with me. The girls have all left, and Morgan, Miss Ethelwynn's maid, is at Lady Mellor's." "Your brother!" repeated Kirk reflectively. "Yes, signore. He's here." And a respectably-dressed man a trifle younger than Antonio, who had been standing out in the hall, entered and bowed. "Pietro keeps a tobacconist's in the Euston Road," he explained. "I asked him here, as I don't care to stay in this place alone just now." Kirk regarded the new-comer keenly, but made no remark. His attention was upon the unfortunate girl, who as far as we could gather, had returned in secret, entered quietly with her latch-key, and removed her hat, placing it upon the couch, sticking its pins through it, before she had been struck down by some unseen hand.