p it quickly drew
back. "Where--where was it found?" he hoarsely demanded. "O God! am I to
be crushed to the very earth by sorrow!"

Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with the
truth.

"It was picked up--last night--from the lobby floor. There is seemingly
nothing to connect it with her death. Yet--"

The pause was eloquent. Mr. Challoner gave the detective an agonised
look and turned white to the lips. Then gradually, as the silence
continued, his head fell forward, and he muttered almost unintelligibly:

"I honestly believe her the victim of some heartless stranger. I do
now; but--but I cannot mislead the police. At any cost I must retract a
statement I made under false impressions and with no desire to deceive.
I said that I knew all of the gentlemen who admired her and aspired to
her hand, and that they were all reputable men and above committing a
crime of this or any other kind. But it seems that I did not know her
secret heart as thoroughly as I had supposed. Among her effects I
have just come upon a batch of letters--love letters I am forced to
acknowledge--signed by initials totally strange to me. The letters are
manly in tone--most of them--but one--"

"What about the one?"

"Shows that the writer was displeased. It may mean nothing, but I could
not let the matter go without setting myself right with the authorities.
If it might be allowed to rest here--if those letters can remain sacred,
it would save me the additional pang of seeing her inmost concerns--the
secret and holiest recesses of a woman's heart, laid open to the public.
For, from the tenor of most of these letters, she--she was not averse to
the writer."

Mr. Gryce moved a little restlessly in his chair and stared hard at the
cutter so conveniently placed under his eye. Then his manner softened
and he remarked:

"We will do what we can. But you must understand that the matter is not
a simple one. That, in fact, it contains mysteries which demand police
investigation. We do not dare to trifle with any of the facts. The
inspector, and, if not he, the coroner, will have to be told about these
letters and will probably ask to see them."

"They are the letters of a gentleman."

"With the one exception."

"Yes, that is understood." Then in a sudden heat and with an almost
sublime trust in his daughter notwithstanding the duplicity he had just
discovered:

"Nothing--not the story told by these letters, or the sight