Page:Yellow Claw 1920.djvu/50



R. CUMBERLY walked slowly upstairs to his own flat, a picture etched indelibly upon his mind, of Henry Leroux, with a face of despair, sitting below in his dining-room and listening to the ominous sounds proceeding from the study, where the police were now busily engaged. In the lobby he met his daughter Helen, who was waiting for him in a state of nervous suspense.

“Father!” she began, whilst rebuke died upon the doctor’s lips—“tell me quickly what has happened.”

Perceiving that an explanation was unavoidable, Dr. Cumberly outlined the story of the night’s gruesome happenings, whilst Big Ben began to chime the hour of one.

Helen, eager-eyed, and with her charming face rather pale, hung upon every word of the narrative.

“And now,” concluded her father, “you must go to bed. I insist.”

“But father!” cried the girl—“there is something”…

She hesitated, uneasily.

“Well, Helen, go on,” said the doctor.