been driven to sending for Amelia Miles, and when I
send for Amelia Miles for company, I'm in a bad way."

"I have had a great deal to attend to," I said as loud as I could. "I
came some days ago to tell you Mr. Fleming was dead; after that we had
to bury him, and close the house. It's been a very sad--"

"Did he leave anything?" she interrupted. "It isn't sad at all unless he
didn't leave anything."

"He left very little. The house, perhaps, and I regret to have to tell
you that a woman came to me yesterday who claims to be a second wife."

She took off her glasses, wiped them and put them on again.

"Then," she said with a snap, "there's one other woman in the world as
big a fool as my sister Martha was. I didn't know there were two of 'em.
What do you hear about Jane?"

"The last time I was here," I shouted, "you thought she was dead; have
you changed your mind?"

"The last time you were here," she said with dignity, "I thought a good
many things that were wrong. I thought I had lost some of the pearls,
but I hadn't."

"What!" I exclaimed incredulously. She put her hands on the arms of her
chair, and leaning forward, shot the words at me viciously.

"I--said--I--had--lost--some--of--the--pearls--well--I--haven't."

She didn't expect me to believe her, any more than she believed it
herself. But why on earth she had changed her attitude about the pearls
was beyond me. I merely nodded comprehensively.

"Very well," I said, "I'm glad to know it was a mistake. Now, the next
thing is to find Miss Jane."

"We have found her," she said tartly. "That's what I sent for you
about."

"Found her!" This time I did get out of my chair. "What on earth do you
mean, Miss Letitia? Why, we've been scouring the country for her."

She opened a religious monthly on the table beside her, and took out a
folded paper. I had to control my impatience while she changed her
glasses and read it slowly.

"Heppie found it on the back porch, under a milk bottle," she prefaced.
Then she read it to me. I do not remember the wording, and Miss Letitia
refused, both then and later, to let it out of her hands. As a result,
unlike the other manuscripts in the case, I have not even a copy. The
substance, shorn of its bad spelling and grammar, was this:

The writer knew where Miss Jane was; the inference being that he was
responsible. She was well and happy, but she had happened to read a
newspaper with an account of her disappearance, and