of
the room. It was some time before her quick eyes gave her any clue to
the meaning of the wax on the Countess's hands. Then she found it at
last. There was another of the silken threads hanging on the lock of the
door leading to the room where Sir Charles lay. On the official seal
placed there by the police officers was a tiny thread of silk. It was
not attached to the seal in any way. It came away in Beatrice's hands
when she pulled it, as if it had been fixed there by gum. Beatrice knew
better than that. On the silk was wax, as she discovered when her hand
touched it. A piece of soft white wax had been pressed on the seal, and
had left strong traces behind.

Now, what did this strange mystery mean? Beatrice asked herself. Why did
anybody require an impression of that seal? What object could anyone
have in getting into the room where the dead man lay? The more Beatrice
asked herself this question the more puzzled did she become. She thought
it over till her head ached and her eyes grew heavy. So engrossed was
she that she quite failed to notice several little impatient knocks at
the door. Then the girl came to herself with a start, and opened the
door to admit her maid, as she expected.

But it was not Adeline come back, but the Countess with a dazzling white
silk wrap over her shoulders. She was profoundly apologetic, but what
was she to do? Her maid had been taken ill and she had been commanded to
bed by a doctor. The Countess was very sorry for Marie, but she had a
little sympathy left for herself. It was impossible for her to unhook
the back of her dress. Would Beatrice be so kind as to do it for her?

"Of course I will," Beatrice said. "It is awkward being without a maid.
Let me shut the door."

It was no great task that Beatrice had set herself, but it was not
rendered any more easy because the Countess pranced about the room as if
unable to keep still. She held in her hand a smelling bottle with a
powerful perfume that Beatrice had never smelt before. It was sweet yet
pungent, and carried just a suggestion of a tonic perfume with it. But
the task was accomplished at length.

"I fancy that is all you require," Beatrice said. "What scent is that
you are using?"

"It is some new stuff from Paris," the Countess said carelessly. "It is
supposed to be the most marvellous thing for headaches in the wide
world. Personally, I find it a little too strong. Do you like
perfumes?"

"I am afraid they are a weaknes