Loraine waited for no more. She took to her heels and ran, still clasping the brown paper packet. Behind her, the noise of a struggle suddenly broke out. A hoarse voice: "Lemme go"; another that she knew well: "Not if I know it--ah, you would, would you?" Still Loraine ran--blindly, as though panic-stricken--right round the corner of the terrace--and slap into the arms of a large, solidly built man. "There, there," said Superintendent Battle kindly. Loraine was struggling to speak. "Oh, quick--oh, quick! They're killing each other. Oh, do be quick!" There was a sharp crack of a revolver shot--and then another. Superintendent Battle started to run. Loraine followed. Back round the corner of the terrace and along to the library window. The window was open. Battle stooped and switched on an electric torch. Loraine was close beside him, peering over his shoulder. She gave a little sobbing gasp. On the threshold of the window lay Jimmy Thesiger in what looked like a pool of blood. His right arm lay dangling in a curious position. Loraine gave a sharp cry. "He's dead," she wailed. "Oh, Jimmy--Jimmy--he's dead!" "Now, now," said Superintendent Battle soothingly, "don't you take on so. The young gentleman isn't dead, I'll be bound. See if you can find the lights and turn them on." Loraine obeyed. She stumbled across the room, found the switch by the door and pressed it down. The room was flooded with light. Superintendent Battle uttered a sigh of relief. "It's all right--he's only shot in the right arm. He's fainted through loss of blood. Come and give me a hand with him." There was a pounding on the library door. Voices were heard, asking, expostulating, demanding. Loraine looked doubtfully at it. "Shall I--" "No hurry," said Battle. "We'll let them in presently. You come and give me a hand." Loraine came obediently. The Superintendent had produced a large, clean pocket-handkerchief and was neatly bandaging the wounded man's arm. Loraine helped him. "He'll be all right," said the Superintendent. "Don't you worry. As many lives as cats, these young fellows. It wasn't the loss of blood knocked him out either. He must have caught his head a crack on the floor as he fell." Outside the knocking on the door had become tremendous. The voice of George Lomax, furiously upraised, came loud and distinct: "Who is in there? Open the door at once." Superintendent Battle sighed. "I suppose we shall have to," he said. "A pity." His eyes darted round, taking in the scene. An automatic lay by Jimmy's side. The Superintendent picked it up gingerly, holding it very delicately, and examined it. He grunted and laid it on the table. Then he stepped across and unlocked the door. Several people almost fell into the room. Nearly everybody said something at the same minute. George Lomax, spluttering with obdurate words which refused to come with sufficient fluency, exclaimed: