you that it was, in fact, the opening
movement of Mendelssohn's _Lied ohne Woerter_ in A major.

He turned the shoes over, made some measurements with a marked tape, and
looked minutely at the bottoms. On each, in the angle between the heel
and the instep, he detected a faint trace of red gravel.

Trent placed the shoes on the floor, and walked with his hands behind
him to the window, out of which, still faintly whistling, he gazed with
eyes that saw nothing. Once his lips opened to emit mechanically the
Englishman's expletive of sudden enlightenment. At length he turned to
the shelves again, and swiftly but carefully examined every one of the
shoes there.

This done, he took up the garments from the chair, looked them over
closely and replaced them. He turned to the wardrobe cupboards again,
and hunted through them carefully. The litter on the dressing table now
engaged his attention for the second time. Then he sat down on the empty
chair, took his head in his hands, and remained in that attitude,
staring at the carpet, for some minutes. He rose at last and opened the
inner door leading to Mrs. Manderson's room.

It was evident at a glance that the big room had been hurriedly put down
from its place as the lady's bower. All the array of objects that belong
to a woman's dressing table had been removed; on bed and chairs and
smaller tables there were no garments or hats, bags or boxes; no trace
remained of the obstinate conspiracy of gloves and veils, handkerchiefs
and ribbons, to break the captivity of the drawer. The room was like an
unoccupied guest-chamber. Yet in every detail of furniture and
decoration it spoke of an unconventional but exacting taste. Trent, as
his expert eye noted the various perfection of color and form amid which
the ill-mated lady dreamed her dreams and thought her loneliest
thoughts, knew that she had at least the resources of an artistic
nature. His interest in this unknown personality grew stronger; and his
brows came down heavily as he thought of the burdens laid upon it, and
of the deed of which the history was now shaping itself with more and
more of substance before his busy mind.

He went first to the tall French window in the middle of the wall that
faced the door, and opening it, stepped out upon a small balcony with an
iron railing. He looked down on a broad stretch of lawn that began
immediately beneath him, separated from the house-wall only by a narrow
flower-bed, and stret