e doctor's was to supply me with an invaluable bit of
evidence.

I carried the removal permit to Mr. Ulysses White, and then betook
myself to a more thorough examination of the tragedy's surroundings.

First of all, I went again to the untidy bedroom and the closet above
the concealed safe.

A careful and methodical search brought very little to light which I
thought might subsequently be of use to me. I examined the safe
carefully with an idea of discovering a secret compartment; but there
was none. The position of the safe itself, evidently, had been
considered sufficiently private by the builders.

I paused for a moment beside an old-fashioned walnut table which stood
close by the bed's head. Its top had been covered at some remote
period with artificial leather, which was held around the edges by a
strip or braid of similar material, the whole made secure by ornamental
brass-headed tacks placed at intervals of two or three inches.

In the dust on the imitation leather cover was an oblong imprint which,
the instant I perceived it, I was seized with a caprice to measure.
Its dimensions proved to be just four by three and one-half inches.

Now, this mark in the dust was so manifestly fresh, and its size and
shape so suggestive, that before I was well aware of the mental
operation, my mind had already accounted for its presence there.

After Mr. Page had obtained the ruby from the safe last night, he had,
for some reason, paused by this table before returning to Maillot in
the library, and had laid the box thereon. Why? He had retained the
candle, which he was at the time carrying, for there was no indication
in the dust that he had temporarily relieved himself of that object.
Had he turned aside to get something from the bed?--or maybe from the
table?

The first mentioned, though unmade since it had last been slept in, was
not disarranged in the way one would be obliged to disturb it in
getting at the usual places of concealment, and it was hardly likely
that Mr. Page would have taken the pains to obliterate any such
indications.

As for the table, it had no drawer.

Pondering the matter, perhaps more than it warranted, I turned to the
dresser. The only detail here worth a passing notice was a small
pasteboard box containing a number of .38 calibre cartridges.
Originally there had been fifty in the box. I counted them. Six were
missing; just the number required to charge the cylinder of most
revolv