inches long and a quarter of an inch wide. It was
very much like a slit in a door for letters.

But there was no ruby yet, nor any aperture large enough to accommodate
the one for which we were looking. I leaned over with a puzzled scowl
and peered into the slit.

"There 's a folded paper in there," I announced. My fingers were too
large to force into the opening, and Genevieve promptly produced a
hat-pin. Next moment we had the paper out--or papers, for there were
three sheets folded together.

Across the back, written in Felix Page's small cramped hand, was this
inscription:

_Memorandum of Agreement between_
_Felix Page_
_and_
_Cristofano Paternostro, Michele Paternostro_
_and Filippo Paternostro._

"Well, we 're hot on the scent, at any rate," was my comment, as I
unfolded the papers. Then I quickly folded them again, without a
glance inside.

"Wait!" said I. "This is a solemn occasion, and it should be
recognized with some fitting observance."

"Oh, don't tease!" cried Genevieve, dancing up and down with
impatience, and trying to pluck the papers from my hand.

"I 'm not teasing, my dear," said I; "I 'm terribly serious. We are
pretty near the end of the trail, little girl; after we have read this
imposing document we will have reached the end. I 'm halfway sorry,
too, notwithstanding the grim tragedy that has hung over us. We must
celebrate the last event with an appropriate rite--a fire upon the
library hearth."

She flushed with delight, and consented to wait until I had the fire
going properly. It was a most successful fire. We dragged the library
table up close; I jumped Genevieve to a seat upon it, and then seated
myself beside her. She placed a hand upon my shoulder, and our heads
were again very close together.

"Now, then!" I shook the papers open.

The more imposing one--the agreement--I placed beneath; its dry legal
phraseology was not at all inviting. The other sheets were, however.
They too were written all over in Felix Page's hand, but bore the
blunt, direct phrases of a man used to expressing himself without any
rhetorical embellishment or nonsense.

And this is what we read:

This explanation is written to clear up any misunderstanding or doubt,
that may arise after my death, over the stone called the Paternoster
Ruby.

In June, 1884, I learned that Alfred Fluette was trying to buy it from
the Paternostros. I at once determined that he should not h