“Yes,” Gifford assented.  “But we don’t know yet that it is a case of suicide.”

“What else?” Kelson returned.  “How otherwise could the door have been locked.  Unless—­” He glanced sharply at the deep recess, or inner chamber, formed by the bartizan, hesitated a moment, and then going quickly to it, looked in.

“No, nothing there,” he announced with a breath of relief.  “I had for the moment an idea it might have been a double tragedy,” he added with a shudder.

“So we are forced back to the suicide theory,” Gifford remarked.  He had gone to the landing outside the door.

“Yes,” Kelson replied as he joined him.  “But as to the woman in the case, who could she possibly have been?  I knew most of the girls who were at the dance, and the idea of a tragedy with any one of them seems inconceivable.”

“One would think so,” Gifford responded.  “And yet—­”

“You think it possible?” Kelson demanded incredulously.

“Possible, if far from probable,” the other answered with conviction.  “There are women who can be as secret as the grave, at any rate so far as appearances to the outer world are concerned.  I wonder whom he danced with.  Do you remember?”

“No.  I seem to recollect him with a girl in a light green dress, but that does not take us far.”

Footsteps on the stairway announced their host’s return.

“The police will be here, directly,” he reported, “and, I hope, a doctor.  I have done my best to keep it from the ladies, and I don’t think that, so far, any of them has an exact idea of what made me turn them back.  Just as well the horror should be kept dark as long as possible.  It is such an awful blow to me that I can scarcely realize it yet.”

“Miss Morriston does not know?” Kelson asked.

“No.  And I only hope it won’t give her a dislike to the house when she does.  For I am hoping to have her here a good deal with me, even if she marries.”

A police inspector accompanied by a detective and a constable now arrived.  Morriston took them into the room of death.  Gifford grasped Kelson’s arm.

“I don’t think there is any use in our staying here,” he suggested.  “Let us go down.”

The other man nodded, and they began to descend.

“You are not going, Kelson?” Morriston cried, hurrying to the door.

“We thought we could be of no use and might be in the way,” Gifford replied.

“Oh, I wish you would stay,” Morriston urged, going down a few steps to them.  “I know it is not pleasant; on the contrary it’s a ghastly affair; but I should like to have you with me till this police business is over.  I won’t ask you to stay up here, but if you don’t mind waiting downstairs I should be so grateful.  I might want your advice.  You’ll find the rest of the party in the drawing-room.”

The two could do no less than promise, and, with a word of thanks, Morriston went back to the officials.