kitchen, which closed the hall at the rear, a flight of stone steps
led down into the basement, and Godfrey descended these with a
steadiness I could not but admire. We found ourselves in a square,
stone-flagged room, evidently used as a laundry. Two doors opened out
of it, but both were secured with heavy padlocks.

"Store-rooms or wine-cellars, perhaps," Godfrey ventured, mounted the
stairs again to the kitchen, and returned to the room whence we had
started.

Everything there was as we had left it. The dead man sat huddled
forward in his chair; Swain was still on his knees beside the couch;
the girl had not stirred. Godfrey went to the side of the couch, and,
disregarding Swain's fierce glance, again placed his fingers lightly
on the girl's left temple. Then he came back to me.

"If she doesn't revive pretty soon," he said, "we'll have to try
heroic measures. But there must be somebody in the house. Let's look
upstairs."

He led the way up the broad stairs, which rose midway of the hall,
sending a long ray of light ahead of him. I followed in no very happy
frame of mind, for I confess that this midnight exploration of an
unknown house, with a murdered man for its only occupant, was getting
on my nerves. But Godfrey proceeded calmly and systematically.

The hall above corresponded to that below, with two doors on each
side, opening into bedroom suites. The first was probably that of the
master of the house. It consisted of bedroom, bath and dressing-room,
but there was no one there. The next was evidently Miss Vaughan's. It