le thus with human souls and purposes. I had simply
imagined myself to have recognised the words lengthening and losing
themselves in a blur before my eyes. Carmel was no fool even if she had
wild and demoniacal moments. This could not be my note to her,--that
fatal note which would make all denial of our mutual passion unavailing.

"Is it your writing?" my watchful inquisitor repeated.

I looked again. The scrap was smaller than my note had been when it left
my hands. If it were the same, then some of the words were gone. Were
they the first ones or the last? It would make a difference in the
reading, or rather, in the conclusions to be drawn from what remained. If
only the mist would clear from before my eyes, or he would hold the slip
of paper nearer! The room was very dark. The--the--

"Is it your writing?" Coroner Perry asked for the third time.

There was no denying it. My writing was peculiar and quite unmistakable.
I should gain nothing by saying no.

"It looks like it," I admitted reluctantly. "But I cannot be sure in this
light. May I ask what this bit of paper is and where you found it?"

"Its contents I think you know. As for the last question I think you can
answer that also if you will."

Saying which, he quietly replaced the scrap of paper in his pocket-book.

I followed the action with my eyes. I caught a fresh glimpse of a
darkened edge, and realised the cause of the faint odour which I had
hitherto experienced without being conscious of it. The scrap had been
plucked out of the chimney. She had tried to burn it. I remembered the
fire and the smouldering bits of paper which crumbled at my touch. And
this one, this, the most important--the only important one of them
all, had flown, half-scorched, up the chimney and clung there within
easy reach.

The whole incident was plain to me, and I could even fix upon the moment
when Hexford or Clarke discovered this invaluable bit of evidence. It was
just before I burst in upon them from the ballroom, and it was the
undoubted occasion of the remark I then overheard:

"_This settles it. He cannot escape us now_."

During the momentary silence which now ensued, I tried to remember the
exact words which had composed this note. They were few---sparks from my
very heart--I ought to be able to recollect them.

"To-night--10:30 train--we will be married at P----. Come, come, my
darling, my life. She will forgive when all is done. Hesitation will
only undo us