‘Seeing as how my husband’s been dead these thirteen years—­’

‘We’re in, sir.  We’d better search the house to start with,’ said Albert.  ’There’s three of us.  The man that opened the door to you must have been a wrong un, one of his.’

‘Never have I had the police in my house before,’ wailed the landlady of No. 23, Horseferry Road, while the candle dropped tallow tears on the oilcloth.  ’And all I can say is I thank the blessed Lord it’s dark, and you aren’t in uniform.  Doctor Woolrich’s rooms are on the first floor, and you can go up and see for yourself, if you like.  And how should I know he wasn’t a real doctor?’

As the landlady spoke, sounds of footsteps made themselves heard overhead, and a door closed.

‘Give me that candle, my good woman,’ said Hugo, hastily snatching it from her.

The three men ran upstairs, leaving the hall to darkness and the landlady.

Whether Hugo dropped the candle in his excitement, or whether it was knocked out of his hand by means of a stick through the rails of the landing-banister as he ascended, will never be accurately known.  He himself is not sure.  The important fact is that the candle fell, and the trio stumbled up the last few stairs with nothing to guide them but a chink of light through a half-closed door.  This door led to the rooms of Dr. Woolrich, and the rooms of Dr. Woolrich were well lighted with gas.  But they were empty.  There was a sitting-room and a bedroom, and on the round table in the centre of the sitting-room was a copy of the most modern edition of Quain’s ‘Dictionary of Medicine,’ edited by Murray, Harold, and Bosanquet, bound in half-morocco; the volume was open at the article ‘Anaesthetics,’ and Hugo will always remember that the page was sixty-two.  No sooner were the rooms found to be empty than Hugo rushed back to the landing, followed by Simon.  The landing, however, even with the sitting-room door thrown wide and the light streaming across the landing and down the stairs, showed no sign of life.

Then Albert, who had remained within the suite, called out: 

‘There must be a dressing-room off this bedroom, and it’s locked.’

‘Simon,’ said Hugo, ‘go to the front window and keep watch.’

And Hugo ran into the bedroom to Albert.

Decidedly there was a door in the bedroom which had the appearance of leading into a further room, but the door would not budge.  The pair glanced about.  No evidence of recent human habitation was visible either in the sitting-room or in the bedroom, save only the dictionary, and Albert commented on this.

‘We must force that door,’ Hugo decided, ’and be ready to look after yourself when it gives way.’

As he spoke he could see, in the tail of his eye, Simon opening the front window and then looking out into the street.

‘One—­two—­charge!’ cried Hugo; and he and Albert flung themselves valiantly against the door.