ttle Miss Jane had
disappeared, had been taken bodily away through the peace of the warm
spring darkness, and that I, as wide-awake as I was at that moment,
acute enough of hearing to detect Wardrop's careful steps on the gravel
walk below, had heard no struggle, had permitted this thing to happen
without raising a finger in the old lady's defense. And she was gone as
completely as if she had stepped over some psychic barrier into the
fourth dimension!

I found myself avoiding the more recent occurrence at the White Cat. I
was still too close to it to have gained any perspective. On that
subject I was able to think clearly of only one thing: that I would have
to tell Margery in the morning, and that I would have given anything I
possessed for a little of Edith's diplomacy with which to break the bad
news. It was Edith who broke the news to me that the moths had got into
my evening clothes while I was hunting in the Rockies, by telling me
that my dress-coat made me look narrow across the shoulders and
persuading me to buy a new one and give the old one to Fred. Then she
broke the news of the moths to Fred!

I was ready for bed when Wardrop came back and rapped at my door. He was
still dressed, and he had the leather bag in his hand.

"Look here," he said excitedly, when I had closed the door, "this is not
my bag at all. Fool that I was. I never examined it carefully."

He held it out to me, and I carried it to the light. It was an ordinary
eighteen-inch Russia leather traveling-bag, tan in color, and with
gold-plated mountings. It was empty, save for the railroad schedule
that still rested in one side pocket. Wardrop pointed to the empty
pocket on the other side.

"In my bag," he explained rapidly, "my name was written inside that
pocket, in ink. I did it myself--my name and address."

I looked inside the pockets on both sides: nothing had been written in.

"Don't you see?" he asked excitedly. "Whoever stole my bag had this one
to substitute for it. If we can succeed in tracing the bag here to the
shop it came from, and from there to the purchaser, we have the thief."

"There's no maker's name in it," I said, after a casual examination.
Wardrop's face fell, and he took the bag from me despondently.

"No matter which way I turn," he said, "I run into a blind alley. If I
were worth a damn, I suppose I could find a way out. But I'm not. Well,
I'll let you sleep this time."

At the door, however, he turned around