That's step number one--and a most important one." The superintendent of police, Mr.Murray, a big, bustling man, was outside our house with Chisholm when we got there, and after a word or two between us, we went in, and were presently upstairs in Gilverthwaite's room.

He lay there in his bed, the sheet drawn about him and a napkin over his face; and though the police took a look at him, I kept away, being too much upset by the doings of the night to stand any more just then.

What I was anxious about was to get some inkling of what all this meant, and I waited impatiently to see what Mr.Lindsey would do.

He was looking about the room, and when the others turned away from the dead man he pointed to Gilverthwaite's clothes, that were laid tidily folded on a chair.
"The first thing to do is to search for his papers and his keys," he said.

"Go carefully through his pockets, sergeant, and let's see what there is." But there was as little in the way of papers there, as there had been in the case of the murdered man.