I suppose I had been in bed a couple of hours when I was awakened by the electric bell sounding in my man's room, and a few minutes later he entered, saying:--

"There's a man who wants to see you immediately, sir. He says he's from Mr. Courtenay's, down at Kew."

"Mr. Courtenay's!" I echoed, sitting up in bed. "Bring him in here."

A few moments later the caller was shown in.

"Why, Short!" I exclaimed. "What's the matter?"

"Matter, doctor," the man stammered. "It's awful, sir!"

"What's awful?"

"My poor master, sir. He's dead--he's been murdered!"

CHAPTER V

DISCLOSES A MYSTERY.

The man's amazing announcement held me speechless.

"Murdered!" I cried when I found tongue. "Impossible!"

"Ah! sir, it's too true. He's quite dead."

"But surely he has died from natural causes--eh?"

"No, sir. My poor master has been foully murdered."

"How do you know that?" I asked breathlessly. "Tell me all the facts."

I saw by the man's agitation, his white face, and the hurried manner in which he had evidently dressed to come in search of me, that something tragic had really occurred.

"We know nothing yet, sir," was his quick response. "I entered his room at two o'clock, as usual, to see if he wanted anything, and saw that he was quite still, apparently asleep. The lamp was turned low, but as I looked over the bed I saw a small dark patch upon the sheet. This I discovered to be blood, and a moment later was horrified to discover a small 

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