One day business had taken Roger to the West-End. As he was returning home at midnight through Gordon Square, he suddenly stopped and staggered back.
A body lay on the ground before him!
Hastily turning it over upon its face, Roger gave a cry of horror.
It was Detective-Inspector Frenchard! Stabbed in eleven places!
Roger hurried madly home, and devised an entirely new set of exercises for his morning drill. A full description of these, however, must be reserved for another chapter.
(And so on for ever.)