The room was dim. Green blinds shut out the afternoon sun. On a narrow bed lay a diminutive figure, fully dressed. Near a window stood the man with the red gaiters. Nearer the still form on the bed was a liveried servant, aged and bent, gulping back his grief. Lester almost expected to find Miss Holt there too, but the large room held no other occupant. He noticed, but paid no heed to, the surprised air of the agent when he entered the room. His first action was to raise the blind of the window nearest the bed. Then he stooped over the shrunken form stretched so stiffly on the coverlet. Waistcoat and shirt had been disarranged at the breast. He lifted an eyelid, and a glance sufficed. The cornea was opaque. Though this sign is practically infallible, Lester applied a stethoscope to the region of the heart. He listened intently for a period that must have seemed long to the watchers. Then he straightened himself. ""Yes, he is dead,"" he said.