‘Don’t disturb the others.’”

Kirk turned to Charlie Chan. “Sergeant, will you come with me, please?”

Silently Charlie followed him to the stairs, and together they went below. The offices were ablaze with light. The rear room, into which the stairs led, was quite empty. They advanced into the middle room.

A window was open as far as it would go, and in the mist outside Chan noted the iron gratings of a fire-escape. This room too seemed empty. But beyond the desk Barry Kirk, in advance, gave a little cry and dropped to his knees.

Chan stepped around the desk. He was not surprised by what he saw, but he was genuinely sorry. Sir Frederic Bruce lay on the floor, shot cleanly through the heart. By his side lay a thin little volume, bound in bright yellow cloth.

Kirk stood up, dazed. “In my office,” he said slowly, as though that were important. “It’s - it’s horrible. Good God - look!”

He pointed to Sir Frederic. On the detective’s feet were black silk stockings - and nothing else. He wore no shoes.

Paradise had followed. He stood for a moment staring at the dead man on the floor, and then turned to Barry Kirk.

“When Sir Frederic came downstairs,” he said, “he was wearing a pair of velvet slippers. Sort of heathen-looking slippers they were, sir.”

CHAPTER IV

The Reckoning of Heaven


BARRY KIRK stood looking about his office; he found it difficult to believe that into this common-place, familiar room, tragedy had found its way. Yet there was that silent figure on the floor, a few moments before so full of life and energy.

“Poor Sir Frederic,” he said. “Only to-day he told me he was near the end of a long trail. Nearer than he dreamed, it appears.” He stopped. “A long trail, Sergeant, - only a few of us know how far back into the past this thing must reach.”

Chan nodded. He had been consulting a huge gold watch; now he snapped shut the case and restored it to his pocket. “Death is the reckoning of heaven,” he remarked. “On this occasion, a most complicated reckoning.”

“Well, what shall we do?” Kirk asked helplessly. “The police, I suppose. But good lord - this is a case beyond any policeman I ever met. Any uniformed man, I mean.” He paused, and a grim smile flashed across his face. “It looks very much to me, Mr. Chan, as though you would have to take charge and -“

A stubborn light leaped into the little black eyes. “Miss Morrow is above,” said Chan.