There was no reply. The house preserved an ominous silence, which made Hall shiver, as Mrs. Mellin had done. Fearing that there was something wrong, and remembering the sinister chatter of the neighbourhood, Hall stepped hastily into the hall. It was of no great size, carpeted throughout, and furnished with a black oak settle on one side and a small rosewood table on the other, together with a hat-rack and an umbrella-stand. Doors were visible right and left; while beyond were stairs and a narrow passage beside them leading towards the back of the house. A swinging lamp illuminated the hall, and in its light everything appeared to be dusty and uncared for. Mrs. Vence certainly was not a particularly good housekeeper, or she would not have neglected her work in this fashion. Astonished by the continued silence, the postman stood hesitating in the hall, while the sea-fog poured in like smoke through the open door. He did not know what to do. The sudden opening of the door, and the violent exit of the unknown man, and now this ominous silence disconcerted Hall. He had just opened his mouth to call again, when there came the sound of a long, faint sigh, and the door on the left opened slowly to reveal the tottering figure of an old woman. She gasped when she saw the postman, and suddenly appeared to gather strength as she moved forward to seize his arm. "Where is he?" she demanded, faintly, and with a gasp. "Did you catch him?" "Catch who, Mrs. Vence?" asked Hall, placing the letter on the rosewood table, since Mrs. Vence did not seem capable of taking it. "The man who ran out." "No. He opened the door and pushed past me, and bolted." "Bolted!" Mrs. Vence screamed. "The villain!" "Come!" With unnatural strength she dragged the startled postman through the door on the left and into a comfortable study, cleaner in looks than was the hall. On the hearthrug before the fire lay a man in evening dress face upward with a knife in his heart. Hall uttered a cry of horror, and his teeth chattered like castanets. "Murder!" he gasped. "Murder!" echoed Mrs. Vence, with a shrill scream. "He did it--the man who bolted. Catch him. Catch him!" She pushed the postman fiercely out of the room in a tremendous hurry. "Get a policeman. Catch him. Quick! Quick!" Hall did not need much urging. With a pale face and dry lips he ran out of the house, down the path, and through the gate, intending to mount his bicycle and race for Jervis, who could not be far away. Then he made a startling discovery. His bicycle was gone. Not a sign of it remained. "The murderer has gone off on it," said Hall, blankly. CHAPTER III.