"I don't know," answered Vantine hoarsely. "I never saw him before." Then he strode to the bell and rang it violently. "Parks," he went on sternly, as that worthy appeared at the door, "what has been going on in here?"
"Going on, sir?" repeated Parks, with a look of amazement, not only at the words, but at the tone in which they were uttered. "I'm sure I don't know what—"
Then his glance fell upon the huddled body, and he stopped short, his eyes staring, his mouth open.
"Well," said his master, sharply. "Who is he? What is he doing here?"
"Why—why," stammered Parks, thickly, "that's the man who was waiting to see you, sir."
"You mean he has been killed in this house?" demanded Vantine.
"He was certainly alive when he came in, sir," said Parks, recovering something of his self-possession. "Maybe he was just looking for a quiet place where he could kill himself. He seemed kind of excited."
"Of course," agreed Vantine, with a sigh of relief, "that's the explanation. Only I wish he had chosen some place else. I suppose we shall have to call the police, Lester?"
"Yes," I said, "and the coroner. Suppose you leave it to me. We'll lock up this room, and nobody must leave the house until the police arrive."
"Very well," assented Vantine, visibly relieved, "I'll see to that," and he hastened away, while I went to the 'phone, called up police headquarters, and told briefly what had happened.