spector, reaching for his hat which lay upon the table.
Sowerby replaced his book in his pocket.
“I wonder if any of the bodies will ever come ashore?” he said.
“God knows!” rapped Dunbar; “we can’t even guess how many were aboard. You might as well come along, Sowerby, I’ve just heard from Dr. Cumberly. Mrs. Leroux”…
“Dead?”
“Dying,” replied the inspector; “expected to go at any moment. But the doctor tells me that she may—it’s just possible—recover consciousness before the end; and there’s a bare chance”…
“I see,” said Sowerby eagerly; “of course she must know!”
The two hastened to Palace Mansions. Despite the lateness of the hour, Whitehall was thronged with vehicles, and all the glitter and noise of midnight London surrounded them.
“It only seems like yesterday evening,” said Dunbar, as they mounted the stair of Palace Mansions, “that I came here to take charge of the case. Damme! it’s been the most exciting I’ve ever handled, and it’s certainly the most disappointing.”
“It is indeed,” said Sowerby, gloomily, pressing the bell-button at the side of Henry Leroux’s door.
The door was opened by Garnham; and these two, fresh from the noise and bustle of London’s
