already breakfasted, or would do so
later. The colonel ate and read.

There was not much new in the papers. Harry Bartlett was still held as a
witness, and the prosecutor's detectives were still working on the case.
As yet no one had connected Colonel Ashley officially with the matter.
The reporters seemed to have missed noting that a celebrated--not to
say successful--detective was the guest of Viola Carwell. It was an hour
after the morning meal, and the colonel was in the library, rather idly
glancing over the titles of the books, which included a goodly number on
yachting and golfing, when Viola entered.

"Oh, I didn't know you were here!" she exclaimed, drawing back.

"Oh, come in! Come in!" invited the colonel. "I am just going out. I was
wondering if there happened to be a book on chemistry here--or one on
poisons."

"Poisons!" exclaimed the girl, half drawing back.

"Yes. I have one, but I left it in New York. If there happened to be
one--Or perhaps you can tell me. Did you ever study chemistry?"

"As a girl in school, yes. But I'm afraid I've forgotten all I ever
knew."

"My case, too," said the colonel with a laugh. "Then there isn't a book
giving the different symbols of chemicals?"

"Not that I know of," Viola answered. "Still I might help you out if
it wasn't too complicated. I remember that water is H two O and that
sulphuric acid is H two S O four. But that's about all."

"Would you know what fifty-eight C H one sixty-one, with a period after
the C, a dash after the H and a star after the last number was?" the
colonel asked casually.

Viola shook her head.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't," she answered. "That is too complicated for me.
Isn't it a shame we learn so much that we forget?'

"Still it may have its uses," said the colonel. "I'll have to get a book
on chemistry, I think."

He turned to go out.

"Have you learned anything more?" Viola asked timidly.

"Nothing to speak about," was the answer.

"Oh, I wish you would find out something--and soon," she murmured. "This
suspense is terrible!" and she shuddered as the detective went out.

It was late that afternoon when Colonel Ashley, having seen Miss Mary
Carwell and Viola walking at the far end of the garden, went softly up
the stairs to the room of the girl who had summoned him to The Haven.
With a skill of which he was master he looked quickly but carefully
through Viola's desk, which was littered with many letters and telegrams
of c