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“Ill?”

“He’s been ill a fortnight … ever since the trouble with the baroness…. He came home the next day with a temperature and took to his bed.”

“But he gets up, surely?”

“Ah, that I can’t say!”

“How do you mean, you can’t say?”

“No, his doctor won’t let any one into his room. He took my key from me.”

“Who did?”

“The doctor. He comes and sees to his wants, two or three times a day. He left the house only twenty minutes ago … an old gentleman with a grey beard and spectacles…. Walks quite bent…. But where are you going sir?”

“I’m going up, show me the way,” said Lupin, with his foot on the stairs. “It’s the third floor, isn’t it, on the left?”

“But I mustn’t!” moaned the portress, running after him. “Besides, I haven’t the key … the doctor….”

They climbed the three flights, one behind the other. On the landing, Lupin took a tool from his pocket and, disregarding the woman’s protests, inserted it in the lock. The door yielded almost immediately. We went in.

At the back of a small dark room we saw a streak of light filtering through a door that had been left ajar. Lupin ran across the room and, on reaching the threshold, gave a cry: