And Bryce went back to the dead man--and picked up the tin bottle, and making a cup of his left hand poured out a trickle of the contents.

Cold tea!--and, as far as he could judge, nothing else.

He put the tip of his little finger into the weak-looking stuff, and tasted--it tasted of nothing but a super-abundance of sugar.
He stood there, watching the dead man until the sound of footsteps behind him gave warning of the return of Dick Bewery, who, in another minute, hurried through the bushes, followed by Mitchington.

The boy stared in silence at the still figure, but the inspector, after a hasty glance, turned a horrified face on Bryce.
"Good Lord!" he gasped.

"It's Collishaw!" Bryce for the moment failed to comprehend this, and Mitchington shook his head.
"Collishaw!" he repeated.