“You don’t think the jewels have been stolen again?” she gasped.

The Inspector made no reply.  He had drawn from his pocket a little pass-key and was fitting it into the lock.  The door swung open.  Once more they were both conscious of that peculiar silence, which seemed to have in it some unnamable quality.  He moved to the foot of the stairs and shouted.

“Hello!  Any one there?”

There was no reply.  He opened the doors of the two rooms on the right hand side, where Quest, when he was engaged in any widespread affair, kept a stenographer and a telegraph operator.  Both rooms were empty.  Then he turned towards Quest’s study on the left hand side.  French was a man of iron nerve.  He had served his time in the roughest quarters of New York.  He had found himself face to face with every sort of crime, yet as he opened that door, he seemed to feel some premonition of what was to come.  He stepped across the threshold.  No power on earth could have kept back the cry which broke from his lips.

The curtains of the window which looked out on to the street, were drawn, and the light was none too good.  It was sufficient for him, however, to see without difficulty the details of a ghastly tragedy.  A few feet away from the door was stretched the body of the secretary-valet.  On the other side of the room, lying as though she had slipped from the sofa, her head fallen on one side in hideous fashion, was the body of Miss Quigg, the Salvation Army young woman.  French set his teeth and drew back the curtains.  In the clearer light, the disorder of the room was fully revealed.  There had been a terrible struggle.  Between whom?  How?

There was suddenly a piercing shriek.  The Inspector turned quickly around.  Mrs. Rheinholdt, who had disregarded his advice, was standing on the threshold.

“Inspector!” she cried.  “What has happened?  Oh, my God!”

She covered her face with her hands.  French gripped her by the arm.  At that moment there was the sound of an automobile stopping outside.

“Keep quiet for a moment,” the Inspector whispered in her ear.  “Pull yourself together, madam.  Go to the other end of the room.  Don’t look.  Stay there for a few moments and then get home as quick as you can.”

She obeyed him mutely, pressing her hands to her eyes, shivering in every limb.  French stood back inside the room.  He heard the front door open, he heard Quest’s voice outside.

“Ross!  Where the devil are you, Ross?”

There was no reply.  The door was pushed open.  Quest entered, followed by the Professor and Craig.  The Inspector stood watching their faces.  Quest came to a standstill before he had passed the threshold.  He looked upon the floor and he looked across to the sofa.  Then he looked at French.

“My God!” he muttered.

The Professor pushed past.  He, too, looked around the room, and gazed at the two bodies with an expression of blank and absolute terror.  Then he fell back into Craig’s arms.