“The poor girl!” he cried.  “Horrible!  Horrible!  Horrible!”

Craig led him for a moment to one side.  The Professor was overcome and almost hysterical.  Quest and French were left face to face.

“Know anything about this?” Quest asked quickly.

“Not a thing,” the Inspector replied.  “We arrived, Mrs. Rheinholdt and I, at five minutes past twelve.  There was no answer to our ring.  I used my pass-key and entered.  This is what I found.”

Quest stood over the body of his valet for a moment.  The man was obviously dead.  The Inspector took his handkerchief and covered up the head.  A few feet away was a heavy paper-weight.

“Killed by a blow from behind,” French remarked grimly, “with that little affair.  Look here!”

They glanced down at the girl.  Quest’s eyebrows came together quickly.  There were two blue marks upon her throat where a man’s thumbs might have been.

“The hands again!” he muttered.

The Inspector nodded.

“Can you make anything of it?”

“Not yet,” Quest confessed.  “I must think.”

The Inspector glanced at him curiously.

“Where on earth have you been to?” he demanded.

“Been to?” Quest repeated.

“Look in the mirror!” French suggested.

Quest glanced at himself.  His collar had given way, his tie was torn, a button and some of the cloth had been wrenched from his coat, his trousers were torn, he was covered with dust.

“I’ll tell you about my trouble a little later on,” he replied.  “Say, can’t we keep those girls out?”

They were too late.  Laura and Lenora were already upon the threshold.  Quest swung round towards them.

“Girls,” he said, “there has been some trouble here.  Go and wait upstairs, Lenora, or sit in the hall.  Laura, you had better telephone to the police station, and for a doctor.  That’s right, isn’t it, Inspector?”

“Yes!” the latter assented thoughtfully.

Lenora, white to the lips, staggered a few feet back into the hall.  Laura set her teeth and lingered.

“Is that Ross?” she asked.

“It’s his body,” Quest replied.  “He’s been murdered here, he and the Salvation Army girl who was to come this morning for her cheque.”

Laura turned away, half dazed.

“I’d have trusted Ross with my life,” Quest continued, “but he must have been alone in the house when the girl came.  Do you suppose it was the usual sort of trouble?”

Inspector French stooped down and picked up the paper-weight.  Across it was stamped the name of Sanford Quest.

“This yours, Quest?”

“Of course it is,” Quest answered.  “Everything in the room is mine.”

“The girl would fight to defend herself,” the Inspector remarked slowly, “but she could never strike a man such a blow as your valet died from.”

Once more he stooped and picked up a small clock.  It had stopped at eleven-fifteen.  He looked at it thoughtfully.