‘Take off the paper.’
Burnley caught the loose corner and gently removed it. As it came away the figure within became revealed to the onlookers.
The body was that of a youngish woman, elegantly clad in an evening gown of pale pink cut low round the throat and shoulders, and trimmed with old lace. Masses of dark hair were coiled round the small head. On the fingers the glint of precious stones caught the light. The feet were cased in silk stockings, but no shoes. Pinned to the dress was an envelope.
But it was on the face and neck the gaze of the men was riveted. Once she had clearly been beautiful, but now the face was terribly black and swollen. The dark eyes were open and protruding, and held an expression of deadly horror and fear. The lips were drawn back showing the white, even teeth. And below, on the throat were two discoloured bruises, side by side, round marks close to the windpipe, thumb-prints of the animal who had squeezed out that life with relentless and merciless hands.
When the paper was removed from the dead face, the eyes of Felix seemed to start literally out of his head.
‘God!’ he shrieked in a thin, shrill tone. ‘It’s Annette!’ He stood for a moment, waved his hands convulsively, and then, slowly turning, pitched forward insensible on the floor.
The chief caught him before his head touched the ground.
‘Lend a hand here,’ he called.
Burnley and the sergeant sprang forward and, lifting the inanimate form, bore it into an adjoining room and laid it gently on the floor.
‘Doctor,’ said the Chief shortly, and the sergeant hurried off.