She felt in his pockets one by one, but only discovered a little loose silver. It was her father's habit always to carry a few banknotes in a leather case. If he had done so to-night these had been abstracted. But if the money had been taken, why not the watch? And then she recollected it was inscribed with his name. While she was pondering these disturbing queries. Doctor Macalister entered the room with Austin, who had imparted to him the startling news in a few words. He bent over the quiet form, murmuring as he did so: "He is dressed in Mr Monkton's clothes, certainly. I might have been deceived at the first glance myself." He unbuttoned the waistcoat and shirt, and laid his stethoscope on the chest of the inanimate body. "Dead!" he said briefly, when he had made his examination. "One cannot, of course, at present tell the cause of death, although the appearances point to heart-failure." Sheila looked up at him, her lovely eyes heavy with grief and foreboding. "He spoke a little before you came in," she said. "He seemed to utter two names, Molyneux and Mulliner. He repeated them three times." The kindly old doctor who had brought her into the world looked at her with compassionate eyes. "The part he bore in this mystery, whether he was a victim or accomplice, will never be revealed by him. He must have been near death when he was put into that taxi. I suppose you did not notice the number?" No, neither Grant nor Austin had thought of it. They had been too much perturbed at the time. "Well, I have no doubt the driver can be found. Now I must telephone for the police, and have the body removed." He drew young Wingate aside for a moment. "You say you have inquired at the House of Commons. Have you rung up Monkton's clubs? He has only two. No; well, better do so. It is a forlorn hope; I knew the man so well. He would never keep Sheila waiting like this if he were with means of communication. There has been foul play--we can draw no other conclusion." It was the one Wingate had drawn himself, and he quite agreed it was a forlorn hope. Still, he would make sure. He rang up the Travellers' and the Carlton. The answer was the same from both places. Mr Monkton had not been at either club since the previous day. The police arrived in due course, and bore away the body of the man who wore the clothes of the well-known and popular Cabinet Minister. And, at their heels, came the inspector of the division, accompanied by Mr Smeaton, the famous detective, one of the pillars of Scotland Yard, and the terror of every criminal. Smeaton was a self-made man, risen from the ranks, but he had the manners of a gentleman and a diplomatist. He bowed gravely to the pale-faced girl, who was so bravely keeping back her tears. With Austin he had a slight acquaintance.