“Oh, quick!⁠—oh, quick! They’re killing each other. Oh, do be quick!”

There was a sharp crack of a revolver shot⁠—and then another.

Superintendent Battle started to run. Loraine followed. Back round the corner of the terrace and along to the library window.

The window was open.

Battle stooped and switched on an electric torch. Loraine was close beside him, peering over his shoulder. She gave a little sobbing gasp.

On the threshold of the window lay Jimmy Thesiger in what looked like a pool of blood. His right arm lay dangling in a curious position.

Loraine gave a sharp cry.

“He’s dead,” she wailed. “Oh, Jimmy⁠—Jimmy⁠—he’s dead!”