“Now then,” replied the latter, “I’m with you, and we’re going to keep quite steady. It may come, but I shall not leave you until it goes and for ever.” And he managed to lure Philip on to another subject, and for a time he seemed quieter, but suddenly he stiffened, and his eyes became rigid and staring. “It’s there,” he cried, “I know it!” “Steady, Philip!” said Bellamy sharply. “Where?” “Down below,” he whispered, and began creeping towards the window. Bellamy reached it first and looked down. He saw it at once, knew what it was, and set his teeth. He heard Philip shaking and breathing heavily at his side. “It’s there,” he said, “and it’s complete at last!” “Now, Philip,” said Bellamy, “we’re going down, and I’m going out first, and we’ll settle the thing once and for all.” They went down the stairs and into the drawing-room. Bellamy turned the light on and walked quickly to the French window and began to try to open the catch. He fumbled with it for a moment. “Let me do it,” said Philip, and put his hand to the catch, and then the window opened and he stepped out. “Come back, Philip!” cried Bellamy. As he said it the lights went dim, a fierce blast of burning air filled the room, the window came crashing back. Then through the glass Bellamy saw Philip suddenly throw up his hands, and something huge and dark lean from the wall and envelop him. He seemed to writhe for a moment in its folds. Bellamy strove madly to thrust the window open, while his soul strove to withstand the mighty and evil power he felt was crushing him, and then he saw Philip flung down with awful force, and he could hear the foul, crushing thud as his head struck the stone. And then the window opened and Bellamy dashed out into a quiet and scented night. At the inquest the doctor stated he was satisfied that Mr. Franton’s death was due to a severe heart attack--he had never recovered from the gas, he said, and such a seizure was always possible. “Then there are no peculiar circumstances about the case?” asked the Coroner. The doctor hesitated. “Well, there is one thing,” he said slowly. “The pupils of Mr. Franton’s eyes were--well, to put it simply to the jury--instead of being round, they were drawn up so that they resembled half-moons--in a sense they were like the pupils in the eyes of a cat.” “Can you explain that?” asked the Coroner. “No, I have never seen a similar case,” replied the doctor. “But I am satisfied the cause of death was as I have stated.” Bellamy was, of course, called as a witness, but he had little to say. * * * * * About eleven o’clock on the morning after these events Bellamy rang up the Chorazin Club from his chambers and learned from the manager that Mr. Clinton had returned from abroad. A little later he got a Sloane number and arranged to lunch with Mr. Solan at the United Universities Club. And then he made a conscientious effort to estimate the chances in Rex v. Tipwinkle.