extending the full width of the closet, and reaching to within a foot of the floor; and it seemed to have been let into the partition from behind, for, both above and below, the woodwork was in front of it.  While I was making these observations, I watched Thorndyke with no little curiosity.  First he rapped his knuckles on the glass; then he lighted a wax match, and, holding it close to the mirror, carefully watched the reflection of the flame.  Finally, laying his cheek on the glass, he held the match at arm’s length, still close to the mirror, and looked at the reflection along the surface.  Then he blew out the match and walked back into the room, shutting the cupboard door as we emerged.

“I think,” said he, “that as we shall all undoubtedly be subpoenaed by the coroner, it would be well to put together a few notes of the facts.  I see there is a writing-table by the window, and I would propose that you, Brodribb, just jot down a precis of the statement that you heard last night, while Jervis notes down the exact condition of the body.  While you are doing this, I will take a look round.”

“We might find a more cheerful place to write in,” grumbled Mr. Brodribb; “however—­”

Without finishing the sentence, he sat down at the table, and, having found some sermon paper, dipped a pen in the ink by way of encouraging his thoughts.  At this moment Thorndyke quietly slipped out of the room, and I proceeded to make a detailed examination of the body:  in which occupation I was interrupted at intervals by requests from the lawyer that I should refresh his memory.

We had been occupied thus for about a quarter of an hour, when a quick step was heard outside, the door was opened abruptly, and a man burst into the room.  Brodribb rose and held out his hand.

“This is a sad home-coming for you, Alfred,” said he.

“Yes, my God!” the newcomer exclaimed.  “It’s awful.”

He looked askance at the corpse on the bed, and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.  Alfred Calverley was not extremely prepossessing.  Like his cousin, he was obviously neurotic, but there were signs of dissipation in his face, which, just now, was pale and ghastly, and wore an expression of abject fear.  Moreover, his entrance was accompanied by that of a perceptible odour of brandy.

He had walked over, without noticing me, to the writing-table, and as he stood there, talking in subdued tones with the lawyer, I suddenly found Thorndyke at my side.  He had stolen in noiselessly through the door that Calverley had left open.

“Show him Brodribb’s note,” he whispered, “and then make him go in and look at the peg.”

With this mysterious request, he slipped out of the room as silently as he had come, unperceived either by Calverley or the lawyer.

“Has Captain Raggerton returned with you?” Brodribb was inquiring.

“No, he has gone into the town,” was the reply; “but he won’t be long.  This will be a frightful shock to him.”