"The doctor!"
"I am the doctor!" answered the young man, quickly. "What is it?—an accident!"
The woman lifted her hand towards her heart and staggered a little against the door post. Again she made an effort at self control and speech.
"A—a—I don't know!" she said, jerkily. "A man—in my flat! Dead, I think—murdered!"
The man in the white jacket stepped straight out of his door, closing it behind him.
"Where is your flat?" he asked quietly.
"Just round the corner," replied the woman. "Handel Street. This man called on me. Business. I had to leave him in my flat a few minutes alone. When I went back I found him dead! Struck down by somebody."
"Have you called the police!" asked the doctor. He was already walking quickly towards the corner of the square, the woman hurrying at his side. "Or anybody else?—your neighbours?"
"Nobody! I gave one glance at him and ran for you," she answered. "But I'm sure he's dead. I—I saw blood! And he was so—so still!"
The doctor made no remark. He turned the corner and went swiftly along to the opening
