wondering what secret it held, until the other policeman came up. At the same moment the porter, now fully clothed, came out.
"Come on!" he said shortly. "I'll show you."
Driscoll murmured a word or two to the newly-arrived constable, and then turned to the porter.
"How came you to find him, then?" he asked.
The porter jerked his head at the door which they were leaving.
"I heard that door slam," he replied, irritably, as if the fact which he mentioned caused him offence. "I know I did! So I got up to look around. Then—well, I saw that!"
He raised a hand, pointing down the lane. The three men followed his outstretched finger. And Spargo then saw a man's foot, booted, grey-socked, protruding from an entry on the left hand.
"Sticking out there, just as you see it now," said the porter. "I ain't touched it. And so"
He paused and made a grimace as if at the memory of some unpleasant thing. Driscoll nodded comprehendingly.
"And so you went along and looked?" he suggested. "Just so—just to see who it belonged to, as it might be."
"Just to see—what there was to see," agreed the porter. "Then I saw there was blood. And then—well, I made up the lane to tell one of you chaps."
"Best thing you could have done," said Driscoll. "Well, now then"
The little procession came to a halt at the entry.
