Chapter 10 IN THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.

Caleb Hook stared at the fearful sight which in that darkened chamber met his gaze with feelings of mingled horror and surprise.

Could this, indeed, be the strange creature whose footsteps he had followed-who but a few short moments before he had seen in life.

It was hard to realize it, but there could be no doubt that such was the fact.

There lay the same attenuated form, the same pale and worn features, the thin gray hair, now falling in a tangled mass to the floor, behind the head.

And the restless eyes had ceased their wandering at last, stilled by the cold hand of death.

Upon the woman's forehead a fearful bruise was plainly to be seen as the detective stooped, and, by the light of the candle which he had seized from the table, examined the inanimate form.

It was such a mark as a man's fist might make upon the right temple above the eye.

There was nothing save this fearful bruise, which in itself would have been enough to have felled the strongest man, far less a frail woman like this.

Caleb Hook set the candle upon the floor, and taking the woman's hand in his own, silently felt her pulse.

It had ceased to beat-the hand was already cold.

"Is she dead?" demanded the saloon-keeper, in a frightened whisper.

"She certainly is," replied the detective. "Can you look at her and ask? That blow must have been the work of a powerful man-coward, I should rather say, whoever he was, to use a woman so."

"God save us! an' yer right," exclaimed Slattery, with a shudder. "An' she was a dacent body, if she war mad. Bad luck to the murtherin' spalpane who raised his hand agin her. I would I had me own two hands about his throat!"

As the warm-hearted Irishman uttered these words, with some evidence of deep feeling, the sound of footsteps was heard on the stairs without, and a stout woman, bare-headed and so lightly dressed as to leave a strong suspicion in the minds of the two men who beheld her that she had just left her bed, now bustled into the room.

"An' what's all the row up here?" she demanded. "There's noise enough to wake the dead."

"But not enough to wake yon poor crayter, Mrs. O'Brien!" exclaimed Slattery, grimly, pointing at the same time toward the body of the woman on the floor. "D'ye know what's been goin' on up here? Poor Mrs. Marley's after bein' murdered."

"Holy Vargin! an' is it murther that's been done?" cried the woman, who, having caught sight of the body, now sprang toward the door, extending her hands before her, as if to ward off the sight.

"Help! Murder! Perlice! Och, an' it's bad luck that's overtook me respictible house!"

Before the hand of the detective could be raised to stay her, the frightened creature had rushed down the stairs, through the alley and out into the street, causing the air to ring with her cries of murder and her shouts for the police.

"It's the woman down stairs," said Slattery aghast. "Sure, an' it's the whole worruld we'll have in to join us now."

Caleb Hook made no reply.

He cared little, in fact, who entered this chamber of death and who stayed away.

He could not be everywhere, and had no desire to take charge of the case.

The woman was dead, and her knowledge concerning the robbery of the Webster Bank must remain forever untold.

Nevertheless, he realized fully that between the robbery and this murder there was unquestionably a connecting link.

In all human probability the secrets possessed by this unfortunate creature had cost her life.

He kneeled beside the body and made a hurried examination of her clothes, Slattery talking volubly as he did so, and, professing his entire innocence of any knowledge of the affair.

But the search was fruitless.

Save for a few cheap personal belongings, there was nothing found upon the woman of any interest at all.

He had scarce completed his work, before the sound of many footsteps was heard upon the stairs, and a motley crowd pressed their way into the room.

Men from the market, men from the street.

Butchers, fishmongers, and housewives with their baskets, on their way to purchase their morning supplies.

Close behind them came a policeman, who elbowed his way through the crowd.

Into the hands of this man the detective resigned the case, informing him of his own identity and of the facts connected with the discovery of the body.

"I'll go around to the Oak street station at once, officer," he added in a whisper, "and send you help. Meanwhile, keep an eye on that man Slattery, if you want my advice. Better keep him in here with you-I'll send these people away.

"Get back there!" he said, sternly, facing the crowd now pressing about the door. "Get back, every one of you! The law will attend to this matter without your help!"

He pushed back a brawny butcher as he spoke, who, with his check frock hanging to his heels, had pushed his way beyond the rest within the little room.

At the same instant a slight stir was observed among those beyond, and a young man with pallid features and whitened lips tightly set pushed his way into the room.

He was followed by a second youth but little younger than himself, who held a bundle of newspapers beneath his arm.

Detective Hook started back with an exclamation of surprise.

Before him stood the very pair who had eluded his grasp in the street but a few moments before.

It was Frank Mansfield and his newsboy companion, Jerry Buck.

Attracted by the outcry in the street and impelled by a desire for which he was wholly unable to account, Frank had followed the crowd through the alley and up the rickety stairs, wholly regardless of results.

Springing forward, he now sank beside the body of the unfortunate woman with a low, horror-stricken cry.

Instantly the detective's hand was upon his shoulder and had gently, but firmly, raised him to his feet.

The boy stared at him wildly.

"Let me go," he said hoarsely, pulling himself away. "Send away these people! leave me alone with my dead!"

"Your dead, young man? Is that woman anything to you?"

"She is my mother!" cried Frank, kneeling by the side of the body, and taking the cold, white hand within his own.

"She is my mother, and I, who basely left her to the hands of others, am responsible for this-I, her most unworthy son!"

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