ut one idea left on the subject."

"And what is that?" Old as he was, Mr. Gryce was alert in a moment.

"The girl wore a red cloak. If I mistake not, the lining was also red. A
spot on it might not show to the casual observer. Yet it would mean much
to us."

"Sweetwater!"

A faint blush rose to the old man's cheek.

"Shall I request the privilege of looking that garment over?"

"Yes."

The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it was with
a downcast air.

"Nothing doing," said he.

And then there was silence.

"We only need to find out now that this cutter was not even Miss
Challoner's property," remarked Mr. Gryce, at last, with a gesture
towards the object named, lying openly on the table before him.

"That should be easy. Shall I take it to their rooms and show it to her
maid?"

"If you can do so without disturbing the old gentleman."

But here they were themselves disturbed. A knock at the door was
followed by the immediate entrance of the very person just mentioned.
Mr. Challoner had come in search of the inspector, and showed some
surprise to find his place occupied by an unknown old man.

But Mr. Gryce, who discerned tidings in the bereaved father's face, was
all alacrity in an instant. Greeting his visitor with a smile which few
could see without trusting the man, he explained the inspector's absence
and introduced himself in his own capacity.

Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem inclined
to speak.

Mr. Gryce motioned Sweetwater from the room. With a woeful look the
young detective withdrew, his last glance cast at the cutter still lying
in full view on the table.

Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then laid
it down again, with an air of seeming abstraction.

The father's attention was caught.

"What is that?" he cried, advancing a step and bestowing more than an
ordinary glance at the object thus brought casually, as it were, to his
notice. "I surely recognise this cutter. Does it belong here or--"

Mr. Gryce, observing the other's emotion, motioned him to a chair.
As his visitor sank into it, he remarked, with all the consideration
exacted by the situation:

"It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to think
it belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise?"

"I have seen it, or one like it, often in her hand." Here his eyes
suddenly dilated and the hand stretched forth to gras