For a moment all three men stood staring in appalled silence. Then Constable Roberts backed shudderingly away. "The Lord deliver us," he said in a quaking whisper. "It's Miss Cheyne herself, sir, and dead just as the young officer said a month ago." At any other time Cleek would have noted this compliment paid to his disguise, but now he stood staring down at the grimly grotesque figure, all the colour drained from his lips and cheeks. "How and when did she come back? Where did she hide herself yesterday?" said Constable Roberts, in hushed, awed tones. Nobody answered him. Nobody seemed to have heard. For Cleek and Mr. Narkom the discovery threatened to possess an even more tragic importance. In the finding of this woman shot to the heart they recognized that the deed threatened by Sir Edgar Brenton but a few short hours ago had now indeed been committed. "Good Heavens!" gasped out Mr. Narkom at last, his lips dry, his voice tense and strained, "and so we came too late. No wonder we waited in vain. Poor boy, poor boy, the mystery is at an end." "On the contrary, my friend," flung back Cleek sharply, a bright spot of colour showing in each cheek, "I venture to think it has only just begun. Constable Roberts, search this house first, then mount guard. Don't let any one enter or leave it. If any living man or woman comes near, arrest them, no matter who they are. But don't leave the place unguarded for a single instant. A doctor must be fetched and Dollops must find him. "Thank goodness Sir Edgar is in London and can supply an alibi," he added, almost under his breath. But Constable Roberts turned on his heel as he caught the words, the ruddy colour deserting his face, leaving it white and strained. "Beggin' your pardon, sir, but that's just what 'e ain't. I passed the station on my way here, and there was Sir Edgar 'imself on top of the steps. 'E must 'ave come in by the 9:10 train and 'e didn't see me, but I see 'im as plain as life. Lord pray someone else saw 'im, too!" Speaking, he turned and left the room, and as Mr. Narkom gazed at Cleek, their mutual feeling showed only too visibly on their white, tense faces. So the unhappy boy had taken matters into his own hands after all. That matter was only too clear. He might have gone to town, true enough, but only waited there long enough for it to get dark, that he might be free and undisturbed in his task of revenge. "There's no help for it, Cleek," said the Superintendent with a little shrug of despair. "I would have given one hundred pounds to have prevented it, but----"