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The hours dragged heavily along in that house of mourning. The body of the dead man lay in the little chamber which looked out upon the laurel-encircled lawn. It was covered with a white sheet, the hands were folded upon the breast, and flowers had been laid thereon by the major. Over the face a handkerchief had been thrown, as the once handsome features were so discolored as to be absolutely repulsive to the sight. There was something terrible in the rigidity of the long form, stretched out so stiffly under the sheet. In the chamber candles were burning, and Jaggard was watching near the corpse. He was to watch throughout the night. "Yes, you do, too!" cried Judith ardently, flinging out a masterpiece. "You sound like a syncopated opera; doesn't she, Bruce?" "Expand your chest three times and breathe as deep as you can," he ordered from against my back buttons. I expanded and breathed—pretty quickly at that. "It's all quite true," assented the inspector, thunderstruck; "though how you guessed it all I cannot say. But, as you know so much, perhaps you can tell me one thing more, which bothers me not a little. How did Dr. Etwald compel Battersea to keep silence?".