"Strangled," said the policeman bluntly. CHAPTER V. AFTER THE TRAGEDY. The news was as horrible as it was unexpected. Vernon had anticipated blackmail, he had even believed that in the absence of a third person The Spider might show fight. But he had never dreamed that murder would take place, as such a crime was entirely contrary to The Spider's methods. With a gasp he pulled himself together. "Have they caught the man?" he demanded anxiously. "What man?" questioned the constable suspiciously. "The murderer." "No, sir; it's not known who killed Mr. Dimsdale. He was found strangled in his library, some time after eleven o'clock. The alarm was given, the police were called in, and the ball came to an end. Now, sir," added the man in a friendly way, "I haven't any right to tell you more, and as what I have told you will be in the papers to-morrow, no harm's done. You go home now, sir, and you'll learn all about your friend when the inquest takes place." Vernon thought for a second. "Is your Inspector in the house?" "Yes, sir, but you can't see him." "I must see him, and at once. I believe I know who killed Mr. Dimsdale." "Oh, you do, do you?" said the policeman with a subtle change of manner. "Then you come along with me." "Wait till I pay my cabman," muttered Vernon, and, the policeman making no objection to this, he gave the chauffeur the promised fare. When the vehicle had disappeared down the road, diminishing blackly in the moonlight, he returned, to find that the constable was holding open the gate. "What name am I to give?" asked the man gruffly, for it was evident that he regarded Vernon with suspicion owing to what he had admitted. "My name doesn't matter; the Inspector does not know me," said Vernon impatiently. "Hurry up, man! hurry up! Every moment is of value." Impressed by his imperious manner, the policeman knocked at the closed front door, which was immediately thrown open by a second constable on guard in the hall. By this individual Vernon was introduced into the Jacobean dining-room, after a few hurried words of explanation. Inspector Drench--the constable had informed Vernon of the name--was seated at the table taking notes, and Miss Hest, looking pale and anxious, stood at his elbow. She was the first to speak. "Mr. Vernon," she exclaimed hoarsely, "you have come at last. Poor Mr. Dimsdale was asking for you all the night. And now----" she broke down. "How did you get in, sir?" questioned Inspector Drench imperiously, and nodding to the policeman that he should leave the room. "I gave orders that nobody was to be admitted." "I insisted upon seeing you," said Vernon quickly. "This evening--or rather yesterday evening--I had an appointment with Mr. Dimsdale in his library, but I was decoyed to an empty house in West Kensington, and have only managed to get away." Inspector Drench stared. "What do you mean by all this, sir?"