into Handel Street. There beneath a gas-lamp two policemen stood, talking, and he made up to them.
"This lady says a man is lying dead in her flat in this street—she believes he has been murdered there, in her absence," he said in matter-of-fact tones. "One of you had better come to the flat with me and the other report at the police-station. If your police-surgeon is handy, send him along."
The elder of the two policemen, who had sergeant's stripes on his uniform, gave the woman a keen glance, ending in sudden recognition.
"Miss Tandy, isn't it, ma'am?" he said. "Just so—did a bit of a job for you last year, Miss Tandy. In your flat, eh, ma'am—that's Number 3 in Number 5, I recollect." He turned to the other man and said a few words. "Well?" he continued, as the man moved off towards the adjacent police-station in Hunter Street. "We'd best go up, eh?"
Miss Tandy led the two men up the stairs that gave access to her flat: the doctor, sharp of perception, noticed that the street door of that particular house was open and was apparently always left so until some fixed hour of the evening. Flat Number 3 was on the second floor; its outer door was slightly ajar, as Miss Tandy
