“WHERE’S Brett?” asked Thornton, coming hurriedly into the library, where Douglas was seated at the telephone. The latter hung up the receiver before answering.
 
“He will be here directly, Colonel; at present he is with the doctor and coroner in the southwest . You had better sit down, sir,” glancing with at Thornton’s haggard face; but the Colonel continued his nervous pacing to and fro.
 
“Jove!” he muttered. “This affair has given me a devilish shock.” He paused before a small wall cabinet, and, selecting a key on his ring bunch, he opened the door and took out a decanter.
 
“Will you join me?” he asked, placing it on the table with several tumblers.
 
“No, thanks, Colonel.” Douglas heard the glass click faintly against the mouth of the decanter as the Colonel poured out a liberal portion, which he drank neat. He was just replacing the decanter in the wall cabinet when Brett, followed by the coroner, walked into the room.
 
“If you have no objection, Colonel Thornton, we will hold an informal here,” said Dr. Penfield, .
 
“Not at all, sir, not at all,” exclaimed Thornton . “I am most anxious to have this terrible affair cleared up as soon as possible. Simply state your wishes and they will be carried out to the best of my ability.”
 
“Thanks.” The coroner seated himself at the mahogany table in the center of the room and drew out his notebook and fountain pen, while Brett established himself on the opposite side.
 
“Shall I retire?” inquired the Colonel.
 
“I think it would be best,” replied Dr. Penfield gravely. “I prefer to examine the members of the household separately. No is intended.”
 
“And none is taken.” Thornton smiled wearily. “You forget I’m a lawyer, Doctor, and understand your position. If you wish to see me I will be in my room.”
 
“All right, Colonel.” The coroner consulted his notebook as Thornton left them, then turned to Douglas. “You were the first to enter the southwest chamber, were you not?”
 
“Yes, I broke in a panel of the door with Colonel Thornton’s assistance, and——”
 
“One moment.” Penfield held up his hand. “Was the door locked on the inside?”
 
“Yes, by an old-fashioned bolt, as well as by lock and key.”
 
“Did the bolt and lock work stiffly?”
 
“They did.”
 
“In your opinion would a person locking the door and shooting the bolt into place make enough noise to the ?”
 
“I think so, yes.”
 
“Did you find the windows of the room also bolted when you entered?”
 
“No, they were closed, but the bolts, similar to the one on the door, only smaller, were not fastened.”
 
“I see.” Penfield drummed on the table for a moment with his left hand. “Could anyone have slipped past you and Colonel Thornton when you stood waiting in the hallway for the gas to evaporate?”
 
“No, we would have been sure to see them, and, besides, no one could have remained in that room alive, the escaping gas was overpowering.”
 
“Did the room have no other exit except the one door leading to the hall?”
 
“That is all I could discover. I searched the room with Brett.” The detective nodded affirmatively. “We could find no trace of any other entrance or exit.”
 
“Strange!” exclaimed Penfield. “The windows are too great a height from the ground, and can only be reached by a scaling ladder.”
 
“And beside that,” put in Brett, “I’ve examined the ground under and near the two windows of that room, and there isn’t a trace of a footstep or ladder anywhere around.”
 
The coroner laid down his pen. “I think that is all just now, Mr. Hunter. Brett, will you ask Dr. to step here.”
 
The two men left the room. “I’ll wait in the drawing-room, Brett,” called Douglas, as the detective started upstairs to find the doctor. In a few minutes Brett reappeared in the library with Dr. Marsh.
 
“I won’t detain you long, doctor,” began Penfield. “Be seated. You were the first to examine the dead woman upstairs; what do you think caused her death?”
 
“She was by gas. Every symptom points to that. Of course,” added the doctor cautiously, “this cannot be proved absolutely until the is held.”
 
“I think you are right; my coincides with yours,” said the coroner. “Did you discover any evidence of a struggle or marks of violence about the woman’s person?”
 
“No. Judging from what I found, and I believe nothing had been disturbed by either Colonel Thornton or Mr. Hunter, I think that the Frenchwoman was reading in bed, fell asleep, and was overcome by the gas.”
 
“How long do you think she had been dead before you reached her?”
 
“Several hours, judging from the condition of the body. She was lying in such a position that she got the full force of the gas directly in her face; the room did not have to become filled with the deadly before she was by them.”
 
“I noticed that,” exclaimed the coroner, “the drop light stood on a low stand, so that the gas was on a level with the woman’s head, as the four-poster bed was an unusually high one. I have no further questions to ask just now, Doctor; an autopsy will be held this afternoon at the city morgue, where the body will be taken shortly. Brett, ask Miss Cynthia Carew to come here.”
 
Doctor Marsh stopped on his way to the door. “I have just given Miss Carew an opiate,” he said quickly; “she must not be disturbed at present.”
 
The coroner’s face fell. “That’s too bad,” he . “I particularly wanted to ask what she was doing in the hall at that hour, and what drew her attention to the closed door.”
 
“As it happens, I can answer those two questions.” Marsh returned to the table. “Before I could quiet Miss Carew she repeated her experiences a dozen times. It seems that she was thirsty and went into the hall to get a glass of water, as she seeing an ice and tumblers on the hall table near the stairs. She drank some water, and was returning when she noticed the door in the moonlight, dropped the glass she was carrying, and screamed.”
 
“I found a broken glass lying in the hall,” supplemented Brett.
 
“What was it about the door that caused her to scream?” asked the coroner.
 
“The panels, which are made in the shape of a cross,” explained Doctor Marsh. “It seems that Miss Carew suffers from nightmare which takes the form of a door with panels of that shape. She declares it always disaster. When she found such a door confronting her in the ghostly moonlight it was too much for her nerves and she screamed.”
 
“What is all this I am told about the southwest chamber being haunted?”
 
Marsh his shoulders. “I have resided all my life in Georgetown and have always heard that a room in this house was supposed to be haunted. That particular kind of door with the panels forming a cross is called the ‘witches’ door,’ and was put there in the days just after the Revolution. It is to off evil, so the legend goes.”
 
“Well, it doesn’t seem to have fulfilled its mission.” The coroner carefully turned a page in his notebook and made an entry. “I am very much obliged to you, Doctor,” as Marsh prepared to depart. “I wish you would let me know when Miss Carew is in fit condition to see me.”
 
“I will; good-bye,” and the busy physician beat a hasty retreat.
 
“Suppose you get the butler, Brett,” said the coroner when the two men were alone.
 
“May I suggest, Dr. Penfield, that you allow Mr. Hunter to be present when the servants are examined,” began Brett. “He is deeply interested in the murder of Senator Carew, and is assisting me in trying to that mystery, and I think”—deliberately—“this French maid’s singular death has something to do with the other tragedy.”
 
“Indeed!” The coroner’s eyes with fresh interest. “Certainly, Brett, if you think Mr. Hunter should be present, call him in. I will be glad of his assistance.”
 
The detective hastened out of the room, to return within a few minutes with Douglas and Nicodemus. The old darky was gray with fright, and his eyes had not their natural size since being by the attending the breaking in of the door. He had lain in his bed, too frightened to get up, until Douglas entered his room and hauled him out from under the bedclothes and made him go downstairs and build the fire for the cook, Sophy, who was more composed than her brother, and busied herself in preparing coffee and an early breakfast for those who desired it.
 
“Is there such a thing as a long scaling ladder on the ?” inquired the coroner, after he had asked Nicodemus’ full name and length of service.
 
“No, suh; dey isn’t, only a pa’r ob steps so high”—demonstrating with his hand. “Dat’s der onliest one on de place.”
 
“Is any house being built in this neighborhood?”
 
“No, suh, dar isn’t.”
 
“How did you come to put the maid in that room?”
 
“I didn’t put her dar,” in quick defence; “she went dar ob her own accord; ’deed dat’s so, Marse Douglas,” appealing to him directly. “De Cunnel, he done tole Sophy an’ me ter fix three rooms fo’ de ladies, an’ a room fo’ yo’, suh; he done say nuffin’ about de maid, Annette.”
 
“Then you were not expecting he............