demeanor which he had shown at the funeral, and was again the alert
business man. He was more than this. He was eager,--offensively so,--in
his search for the will. It needed no detective instinct to see that
the fortune of Joseph Crawford and its bestowment were matters of vital
interest to him.

But though his personal feelings on the subject might be distasteful to
me, it was certainly part of my duty to aid in the search, and so with
him I looked through the various drawers and filing cabinets. The papers
representing or connected with the financial interests of the late
millionaire were neatly filed and labelled; but in some parts of
the desk we found the hodge-podge of personal odds and ends which
accumulates with nearly everybody.

Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my mind they showed a
possibility of casting some light on Mr. Crawford's personal affairs.

But among old letters, photographs, programs, newspaper clippings, and
such things, there was nothing that seemed of the slightest interest,
until at last I chanced upon a photograph that arrested my attention.

"Do you know who this is?" I inquired.

"No," returned Hall, with a careless glance at it; "a friend of Mr.
Crawford's, I suppose."

"More than a friend, I should judge," and I turned the back of the
picture toward him. Across it was written, "with loving Christmas
greetings, from M.S.P."; and it was dated as recently as the Christmas
previous.

"Well," said Hall, "Mr. Crawford may have had a lady friend who cared
enough about him to send an affectionate greeting, but I never heard
of her before, and I doubt if she is in any way responsible for the
disappearance of this will."

He went on searching through the desks, giving no serious heed to the
photograph. But to me it seemed important. I alone knew of the visiting
card in the gold bag. I alone knew that that bag belonged to a lady
named Purvis. And here was a photograph initialed by a lady whose
surname began with P, and who was unmistakably on affectionate terms
with Mr. Crawford. To my mind the links began to form a chain; the lady
who had sent her photograph at Christmas, and who had left her gold bag
in Mr. Crawford's office the night he was killed, surely was a lady to
be questioned.

But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram to headquarters, so I said
nothing to Hall on this subject, and putting the photograph in my pocket
continued to assist him to look for the wil