James handed him the box of matches, and he crossed the threshold. For a yard or two we saw him plainly, then his figure grew dim and indistinct. I heard nothing except my own hard breathing. But in a moment there was another sound—a muffled exclamation, and a noise of a man stumbling; a sword, too, clattered on the stones of the passage. We looked at one another; the noise did not produce any answering stir in the house; then came the sharp little explosion of a match struck on its box; next we heard Sapt raising himself, his scabbard scraping along the stones; his footsteps came towards us, and in a second he appeared at the door.
“What was it?” I whispered.
“I fell,” said Sapt.
“Over what?”
“Come and see. James, stay here.”
I followed the constable for the distance of eight or ten feet along the passage.
“Isn’t there a lamp anywhere?” I asked.
“We can see enough with a match,” he answered. “Here, this is what I fell over.”
Even before the match was struck I saw a dark body lying across the passage.
“A dead man?” I guessed instantly.