There was no perceptible wound, and Kirk could not determine whether she was still alive, yet he refused to summon medical aid. I confess to being somewhat annoyed at his obstinacy, and surprised at the secrecy with which he treated the whole of the remarkable circumstances. That very fact tended to strengthen the suspicion that he himself knew more about the crime than he had admitted. Surely the police should be informed! He was very carefully examining the girl's clothing, seeking to discover a wound; but, as far as we could see, there was none, yet the pallor of the countenance was unmistakably that of death, while the hard, white disfigurement of the face was weird and horrible. The eye was closed, distorted, and screwed up by pain, and both mouth and ear seemed shrivelled out of shape. "Who's responsible for this, I wonder?" growled Kirk to himself. "Why did she wish to return here in secret--to the house wherein she knew her father was lying dead? There was some strong motive--just as there is a motive for her death as well as her father's." Then, looking up to me, he added, "You know, Mr. Holford, this poor young lady was her father's assistant and confidante. She was in the habit of helping him in his experiments, and making notes at his dictation of certain results." I knelt at the other side of the inert, prostrate form, and took the ungloved hands in mine. The stiffening fingers were cold as ice. "It's brutal--blackguardly!" cried Kirk in a frenzy of anger. "Whoever has thus sacrificed the girl's beauty deserves a dog's death. The motive in both cases must be vengeance. But for what?" Antonio and his brother were active in getting brandy, sal volatile, ammonia, hot water, and other restoratives; but, though Kirk worked unceasingly for half an hour in a manner which showed him to be no novice, all was to no purpose. There was no sign of life whatever. Indeed, the colour of the disfigured portion of the fair countenance seemed to be slowly changing from marble-white to purple. Kirk watched it, held his breath, and, staying his hand, shook his head. "Why don't you call a doctor?" I again urged. "Something may be done, after all. She may not be dead!" "I can do all that a doctor can do," was his calm, rather dignified reply, and I saw by the dark shadow upon his brow that he was annoyed at my suggestion. So I straightened myself again and watched. At last my eccentric companion came to the conclusion that no more could be done for the unfortunate girl, and we all four lifted her from the carpet on to the large leather sofa set near the window.