A MURDER
save that he had seated himself and was gazing steadfastly upon the dead man. He looked up as the policeman entered.
"What have you done?" he asked.
"The sergeant 's gone for a doctor and another constable," said Wiseman gravely.
"I 'm afraid they will be too late," said Frank. "He is— What's that?"
There was a distant hammering and a faint voice calling for help.
"What 's that?" whispered Frank again.
The constable strode through the open doorway to the foot of the stairs and listened. The sound came from the upper story. He ran upstairs, mounting two at a time, and presently located the noise. It came from an end room, and somebody was hammering on the panels. The door was locked, but the key had been left in the lock, and this Constable Wiseman turned, flooding the dark interior with light.
"Come out!" he said, and Jasper Cole staggered out, dazed and shaking.
Somebody hit me on the head with a sand-
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