of a postal,
with the address side down, lying among the other missives. It was a
postal which bore several lines of printing, the rest being filled in by
a pen, and the import of it was that a certain library book, under the
number 58 C. H--I6I* had been out the full time allowed under the rules,
and must either be returned for renewal, or a fine of two cents a day
paid, and the recipient was asked to give the matter prompt attention.

The colonel turned the card over. It was addressed to Miss Viola
Carwell at The Haven.

"So the book is out on her card," murmured the detective. "I must look
for her copy of 'Poison Plants of New Jersey,' and see if it is like the
one I have."

"Were you speaking to me?" asked Jack, having finished his letter.

"No, but I will now. We've got to get busy on this case, and close it
up. I've been too long on it now. Shag is getting impatient."

"Shag?"

"Yes, he wants me to go fishing."

"Oh, I see. Well, I'm ready. What are the orders?"

Two busy days on the part of Colonel Ashley and his assistant followed.
They went on many mysterious errands and were out once all night. But
where they went, what they did or who they saw they told no one.

It was early one evening that Colonel Ashley waited for his assistant in
the library of The Haven. Jack had gone out to send a message and was to
return soon. And as the colonel waited in the dim light of one electric
bulb, much shaded, he saw a figure come stealing to the portieres that
separated the library from the hall. Cautiously the figure advanced and
looked into the room. A glance seemed to indicate that no one was there,
for the colonel was hidden in the depths of a big chair, "slumping,"
which was his favorite mode of relaxing.

"I wonder if some one is looking for me?" mused the colonel. "Well, just
for fun, I'll play hide and seek. I can disclose myself later." And so
he remained in the chair, hardly breathing the silent figure parted the
heavy curtains, within, dropped something white on the floor, and then
quickly hurried away, the feet making no sound on the thick carpet of
the hall.

"Now," mused the colonel to himself, "I wonder that is a note for me,
or a love missive for one the maids from the butler or the gardener, who
too bashful to deliver it in person. I'd better look."

Without turning on more light the colonel picked up the thing that had
fluttered so silently to the floor. It was a scrap of paper, and as he
he