The match flared out, burning Miles' fingers so he dropped it still glowing on the floor. We could yet distinguish dimly the outlines of the man's form at our feet, and I heard Billie come down the stairs behind us. There was no other sound, except our breathing.
"Strike another, Sergeant," I commanded, surprised by the sound of my own voice, "and we'll see who the fellow is."
He experienced difficulty making it light, but at last the tiny blaze illumined the spot where we stood. I bent over, dreading the task, and turned the dead man's face up to the flare. He was a man of middle age, wearing a closely trimmed chin beard. I failed to recognize the countenance, and glanced up questioningly at Miles just as he uttered an exclamation of surprise.
"It's one of Mahoney's fellows, sir," he asserted sharply. "Burke's the name."
"Then he couldn't possibly be the same man Miss Hardy saw up stairs that first time."
"No, sir, this don't help none to clear that affair up. But it's Burke all right, an' he's had a knife driven through his heart. What do you ever suppose he could 'a' been doin' down here?"
"Where was he stationed?"
"He was with me till that last shindy started; then when you called for more men in the kitchen I sent him an' Flynn out there."
Miles lit a third match, and I looked about striving to piece together the evidence. I began to think I understood something of what had occurred. This soldier, Burke, was a victim, not an assailant. He lay with his hand still clasping the bar which had locked the door. He had been stabbed without warning, and whoever did the deed had escaped over the dead body. I stepped back to where I could see the full length of the cellar; the trap door leading up into the kitchen stood wide open. Convinced this must be the way Burke had come down, I walked over to the narrow stairs, and thrust my head up through the opening. There were six men in the room, and they stared at me in startled surprise, but came instantly to their feet.
"When did Burke go down cellar?" I asked briefly.