Bursting it open without knocking, so sure was she that the sounds she had heard proceeded from this room, the housekeeper found herself in darkness. The electric light had not been turned on. The window was open, the curtains were drawn back, and a little light came from the moon, not long risen. For a moment Mrs. Hawkes saw nothing. Then, her eyes becoming accustomed to the gloom, she perceived that there was something on the floor close by the window, something that did not move, did not utter a sound. She moved forward quickly, and knelt down on the floor. Then a shudder went through her, and she sat back with a low cry. Once more bending down, she raised the inert mass from the floor, turned the limp head, stared down into the ghastly face. For a moment sight and sense seemed to fail her, and then she was roused by sounds of voices and footsteps outside the door. Scrambling quickly to her feet, the housekeeper hurried across the floor, just as a loud knock sounded on the door of the room. She heard the rattling of the handle and quickly turned the key in the lock at the sound of master’s voice. “Mrs. Hawkes, can I speak to you? Can you come out?” She tried to recover her natural voice, as she answered quickly: “In one moment, Sir Robert. Will you send for a doctor at once?” “A doctor!” The voice was that of Jack Rotherfield. “What has happened?” This was in Sir Robert’s voice. There was a pause, during which Mrs. Hawkes heard other voices in a confused buzz. “There has been an accident. A bad accident, I’m afraid.” “Yes, yes. An accident. But I was the cause of it. I did it. Oh, God, let me come in, let me in.” These words were uttered in the strong voice of Jack Rotherfield, and at the same moment there came a terrific lunge against the door, which he was trying to break open. The stern voice of Sir Robert, remonstrating, had the desired effect of making the young man desist, and then the housekeeper heard her master giving orders to one of the men-servants to go at once for a doctor. In the meantime Mrs. Hawkes had hurriedly recrossed the floor to the window, and made one more examination of the body of the woman lying in a heap on the rug under the window. Then the voice of Jack Rotherfield sounded loud and clear above all the others outside. “She’s dead, I know she’s dead.” “Hush!” It was Minnie who was trying to silence him, but the young man still ejaculated, in a tone of passionate remorse and horror, “I know she’s dead. I know it. It was I killed her.” “What!” Sir Robert hissed out the word, in horror and dismay. Jack Rotherfield went on, in a deathlike silence which made every word ring out: “I meant only to frighten her. It was an accident. I fired a revolver into the air, as I thought, but the bullet struck her as she leaned out of the window.” There were sounds of sobbing and suppressed screaming, and in the midst of it Sir Robert knocked again at the door. “You had better let me come in.”