“Not very likely that anybody will want to enter them, sir,” and Parks laughed a grim little laugh.

“I am not so sure of that,” I dissented, speaking very seriously.  “In fact, I am of the opinion that there is somebody who wants to enter those rooms very badly.  I don’t know who he is, and I don’t know what he is after; but I am going to make it your business to keep him out, and to capture him if you catch him trying to get in.”

“Trust me for that, sir,” said Parks promptly.  “What is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to put a cot in the hallway outside the door of the ante-room and sleep there to-night.  To-morrow I will decide what further precautions are necessary.”

“Very good, sir,” said Parks.  “I’ll get the cot up at once.”

“There is one thing more,” I went on.  “I have given the coroner my personal assurance that none of the servants will leave the house until after the inquest.  I suppose I can rely on them?”

“Oh, yes, sir.  I’ll see they understand how important it is.”

“Rogers, especially,” I added, looking at him.

“I understand, sir,” said Parks, quietly.

“Very well.  And now let us go down and lock up those rooms.”

They were still ablaze with light; but both of us faltered a little, I think, on the threshold of the ante-room.  For in the middle of the floor stood a stretcher, and on it was an object covered with a sheet, its outlines horribly suggestive.  But I took myself in hand and entered.  Parks followed me and closed the door.

The ante-room had two windows, and the room beyond, which was a corner one, had three.  All of them were locked, but a pane of glass seemed to me an absurdly fragile barrier against any one who really wished to enter.

“Aren’t there some wooden shutters for these windows?” I asked.

“Yes, sir; they were taken down yesterday and put in the basement.  Shall I get them?”

“I think you’d better,” I said.  “Will you need any help?”

“No, sir; they’re not heavy.  If you’ll wait here, you can snap the bolts into place when I lift them up from the outside.”

“Very well,” I agreed, and Parks hurried away.

I entered the inner room and stopped before the Boule cabinet.  There was a certain air of arrogance about it, as it stood there in that blaze of light, its inlay aglow with a thousand subtle reflections; a flaunting air, the air of a courtesan conscious of her beauty and pleased to attract attention—­just the air with which Madame de Montespan must have sauntered down the mirror gallery at Versailles, ablaze with jewels, her skirts rustling, her figure swaying suggestively.  Something threatening, too; something sinister and deadly—­

There was a rattle at the window, and I saw Parks lifting one of the shutters into place.  I threw up the sash, and pressed the heavy bolts carefully into their sockets, then closed the sash and locked it.  The two other windows were secured in their turn, and with a last look about the room, I turned out the lights.  The ante-room windows were soon shuttered in the same way, and with a sigh of relief I told myself that no entrance to the house could be had from that direction.  With Parks outside the only door, the rooms ought to be safe from invasion.