"I thought as much," said Constable Nightingale, the first to speak. "There's been foul play here. Who opened that window, and left it open on such a night? The cry for help you heard, Wigg, came from this room."
"But there's nobody here," said Constable Wigg.
"That's his bedroom," said Mrs. Middlemore, in an awestruck voice, pointing to a room the door of which was ajar.
They stepped softly toward it, Dr. Lamb now taking the lead. In an arm-chair by the side of the bed sat a man, his arms hanging listlessly down. Dr. Lamb shook him roughly.
But the figure did not move. Dr. Lamb leant over the recumbent form, and thrust his hand inside the man's waistcoat. Then, with his fingers under the man's chin, he raised the head, so that the face was visible.
"Good Lord!" cried Mrs. Middlemore. "It's Mr. Felix! What's the matter with him?"
Dr. Lamb put his finger to his lips, and did not immediately reply. When he removed his hand the head dropped down again, hiding the face.
"If you want to know what's the matter with the man," he said, presently, "he's dead."
THE "EVENING MOON" INDULGES IN A BOMBASTIC RETROSPECT, IN WHICH SOME VERY TALL AND VERY FINE WRITING WILL BE DETECTED BY THE OBSERVANT READER.