THE YELLOW CLAW. Sax Rohmer

to-night.”

      DOCTORS DIFFER

      Dr. 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 some thing”...

      She hesitated, uneasily.

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

      “I am afraid you will refuse.”

      “At least give me the opportunity.”

      “Well--in the glimpse, the half-glimpse, which I had of her, I

      seemed”...

      Dr. Cumberly rested his hands upon his daughter's shoulders

      characteristically, looking into the troubled gray eyes.

      “You don't mean,” he began...

      “I thought I recognized her!” whispered the girl.

      “Good God! can it be possible?”

      “I have been trying, ever since, to recall where we had met, but without

      result. It might mean so much”...

      Dr. Cumberly regarded her, fixedly.

      “It might mean so much to--Mr. Leroux. But I suppose you will say it is

      impossible?”

      “It IS impossible,” said Dr. Cumberly firmly; “dismiss the idea, Helen.”

      “But father,” pleaded the girl, placing her hands over his own,

      “consider what is at stake”...

      “I am anxious that you should not become involved in this morbid

      business.”

      “But you surely know me better than to expect me to faint or become

      hysterical, or anything silly like that! I was certainly shocked when

      I came down to-night, because--well, it was all so frightfully

      unexpected”...

      Dr. Cumberly shook his head. Helen put her arms about his neck and

      raised her eyes to his.

      “You have no right to refuse,” she said, softly: “don't you see that?”

      Dr. Cumberly frowned. Then:--

      “You are right, Helen,” he agreed. “I should know your pluck well

      enough. But if Inspector Dunbar is gone, the police may refuse to admit

      us”...

      “Then let us hurry!” cried Helen. “I am afraid they will take away”...

      Side by side they descended to Henry Leroux's flat, ringing the bell,

      which, an hour earlier, the lady of the civet furs had rung.

      A sergeant in uniform opened the door.

      “Is Detective-Inspector Dunbar here?” inquired the physician.

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Say that Dr. Cumberly wishes to speak to him. And”--as the man was

      about to depart--“request him not to arouse Mr. Leroux.”

      Almost immediately the inspector appeared, a look of surprise upon his

      face, which increased on perceiving the girl beside her father.

      “This is my daughter, Inspector,” explained Cumberly; “she is a

      contributor to the Planet, and to various magazines, and in this

      journalistic capacity, meets many people in many walks of life. She

      thinks she may be of use to you in preparing your case.”

      Dunbar bowed rather awkwardly.

      “Glad to meet you, Miss Cumberly,” came the inevitable formula.

      “Entirely at your service.”

      “I had an idea, Inspector,” said the girl, laying her hand

      confidentially upon Dunbar's arm, “that I recognized, when I entered Mr.

      Leroux's study, tonight”--Dunbar nodded--“that I recognized--the--the

      victim!”

      “Good!” said the inspector, rubbing his palms briskly together. His

      tawny eyes sparkled. “And you would wish to see her again before we

      take her away. Very plucky of you, Miss Cumberly! But then, you are a

      doctor's daughter.”

      They entered, and the inspector closed the door behind them.

      “Don't arouse poor Leroux,” whispered Cumberly to the detective. “I left

      him on a couch in the dining-room.”...

      “He is still there,” replied Dunbar; “poor chap! It is”...

      He met Helen's glance, and broke off shortly.

      In the study two uniformed constables, and an officer in plain clothes,

      were apparently engaged in making an inventory--or such was the

      impression conveyed. The clock ticked merrily on; its ticking a

      desecration, where all else was hushed in deference to the grim visitor.

      The body of the murdered woman had been laid upon the chesterfield, and

      a little, dark, bearded man was conducting an elaborate examination;

      when, seeing the trio enter, he hastily threw the coat of civet fur over

      the body, and stood up, facing the intruders.

      “It's all right, doctor,” said the inspector; “and we shan't detain you

      a moment.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Mr. Hilton, M. R. C. S.” he

      said, indicating the dark man--“Dr. Cumberly and Miss Cumberly.”

      The divisional surgeon bowed to Helen and eagerly grasped the hand of

      the celebrated physician.

      “I am fortunate in being able to ask your opinion,” he began....

      Dr.