trace of them," announced the superintendent a moment or two
later. "Here are the shaving mug, the brush, and the spirit lamp,
however, just as you suggested and---- Hallo! what have you stumbled
upon now?" For Cleek, who had been "poking about," as he termed it, had
suddenly stooped, picked up something, and was regarding it fixedly as
it lay in the palm of his hand.

"A somewhat remarkable thing to discover in a lady's bedchamber, Mr.
Narkom, unless---- Just step downstairs, and ask Miss Morrison to come
up again for a moment, will you?" And then held out his hand so that
Narkom could see, in passing, that a hempseed, two grains of barley, and
an oat lay upon his palm. "Miss Morrison," he inquired as Mary returned
in company with the superintendent, "Miss Morrison, do you keep
pigeons?"

She gave a little cry, and clasped her hands together, as if reproaching
herself for some heartless act.

"Oh!" she said, moving hastily toward the window. "Poor dears! How good
of you to remind me. To think that I should forget to feed them for
three whole days. They may be dead by now. But at such a time I could
think of nothing but this hideous mystery. My pigeons, my poor, pretty
pigeons!"

"Oh, then you do keep them?"

"Yes; oh, yes. In a wire-enclosed cote attached to the house just
outside this window. Homing pigeons, Mr. Headland. George bought them
for me. We had an even half dozen each. We used to send messages to each
other that way. He would bring his over to me, and take mine away with
him at night when he went home, so we could correspond at any moment
without waiting for the post. That's how I sent him the message about
the arrival of the belt. Oh, do unlock the window, and let me see if
the pretty dears are still alive."

"It doesn't need to be unlocked, Miss Morrison," he replied as he pulled
up the blind. "See, it can be opened easily--the catch is not secured."

"Not secured? Why, how strange. I myself fastened it after I despatched
the bird with the message about the belt. And nobody came into the room
after that until George did so that night. Oh, do look and see if the
pretty creatures are dead. They generally coo so persistently; and now I
don't hear a sound from them."

Cleek threw up the sash and looked out. A huge wistaria with tendrils as
thick as a man's wrist covered the side of the house, and made a
veritable ladder down to the little garden; and, firmly secured to this,
on a level with the wind