Then came the sound which every one talked of for months afterwards, the sound which no one who heard it ever forgot--the death cry of Victor Bidlake, followed a second afterwards by a muffled report.

A strain of frenzied surprise seemed mingled with the horror.

Afterwards, silence.
There was the sound of some commotion outside, the sound of hurried footsteps and agitated voices.

Then a terrible little procession appeared.

Something--it seemed to be a shapeless heap of clothes--was carried in and laid upon the floor, in the little space between the revolving doors and the inner entrance.