"Is that you, Nightingale?" Constable Wigg called out before he turned the key.
"Yes, it's me," cried Constable Nightingale, without: "don't keep us waiting all night."
"He's got the locksmith with him," whispered Constable Wigg, with his lips very close to Mrs. Middlemore's ear. Then he threw open the street-door.
Constable Nightingale had somebody else with him besides the locksmith. Accompanying them was a tall, thin, gentlemanly-looking, but rather seedy young gentleman, who stepped quickly into the passage.
"Has anything took place?" inquired Constable Nightingale, glancing suspiciously from Constable Wigg to Mrs. Middlemore.
"Nothing," replied Constable Wigg. "There ain't been a sound in the house."
"Just as we turned the corner," said Constable Nightingale, with a motion of his hand toward the seedy young gentleman, "we met Dr. Lamb, who was coming home from a case, and as there's no knowing what might be wanted, I asked him to favor us with his company."
Mrs. Middlemore knew Dr. Lamb, who kept a chemist's shop in the neighborhood, and she gave him a friendly nod. It must have been a trying case that the young gentleman had come from, for he looked particularly shaky, and was rather unsteady on his legs. The locksmith now made some sensible remarks to the effect that he had been awakened from a sound sleep, and would like to get back to bed again; therefore, had they not better get to work at once? His suggestion was acted upon, and they all proceeded upstairs.
"I'll give him another chance," said Constable Nightingale, and he forthwith exerted the full strength of his lungs and hammered away at the door, to as little purpose as he had previously done. "There's nothing for it," he said, very red in the face, "but to force open the door in the name of the law."
The locksmith, who had brought a basket of tools with him, declared he would make short work of it, but after examining the door was forced to confess inwardly that this was an idle boast. It was of stout oak, and to remove the brass plate and pick the lock occupied him much longer than he expected. However, in the course of about twenty minutes the task was accomplished, and the door stood open for them to enter. Standing for a moment irresolutely on the threshold they were greeted by a blast of cold air. Constable Nightingale was the first to notice that the window was open, and he stepped into the room and closed it. The others followed, and were treading close on his heels when he waved them back, and pointed downward. There, on the floor, was a little pool of blood. They shuddered as they gazed upon it.