"I daren't come in, sir! I ran downstairs and called up Sir Elwin Groves. Before he came, all the rest of the household huddled on their clothes and went away—"
"It was I who found him," interrupted Sir Elwin—"as you see him now; with Lady Lashmore where she lies. I have 'phoned for nurses."
"Ah!" said Dr. Cairn; "I shall come back, Groves, but I have a small matter to attend to."
He drew his son from the room. On the stair:
"You understand?" he asked. "The spirit of Mirza came to him again, clothed in his wife's body. Lord Lashmore felt the teeth at his throat, awoke instantly and struck out. As he did so, he turned the torch upon her, and recognised—his wife! His heart completed the tragedy, and so—to the laughter of the sorceress—passed the last of the house of Dhoon."
The cab was waiting. Dr. Cairn gave an address in Piccadilly, and the two entered. As the cab moved off, the doctor took a revolver from his pocket, with some loose cartridges, charged the five chambers, and quietly replaced the weapon in his pocket again.
One of the big doors of the block of chambers was found to be ajar, and a porter proved to be yet in attendance.
"Mr. Ferrara?" began Dr. Cairn.
"You are five minutes too late, sir," said the man. "He left by motor at ten past twelve. He's gone abroad, sir."