ried--a
comparatively big hand-bag which the lady had taken the precaution to
purchase before driving out to Riversbrook.

The French girl's face lighted up with a smile as she saw by the shape of
the bag that it was not empty.

"Have you got them?" she whispered.

"Yes," was the reply. "I followed out your plan--it worked without a
hitch."

"Ah, I knew you would manage it," said the girl. "I would have gone, but
it was best that you should go. These police agents do not like
foreigners--they would be suspicious if I had gone."

"There was a big red-faced man in charge--Inspector Chippenfield, they
called him," said Mrs. Holymead. "He was in the library as you said he
would be--he was sitting there calmly as if he did not know what nerves
were. He knew me as a friend of the family and was quite nice to me. I
saw as soon as I went in that the desk was open--he had been examining
Sir Horace's private papers. I asked him to tell me about the--about the
tragedy. He piled horror on horror and then I pretended to faint. He ran
down stairs for a glass of water, and that gave me time to open the
secret drawer. They are here," she added, patting the hand-bag
affectionately; "let us go upstairs and burn them."

CHAPTER VI

There was unpleasant news for Inspector Chippenfield when Miss Fewbanks
arrived at Riversbrook accompanied by the housekeeper, Mrs. Hewson. In
the first place, he learnt with considerable astonishment that it was
Miss Fewbanks's intention to stay at the house until after the funeral,
and for that purpose she had brought the housekeeper to keep her company
in the lonely old place. Although they had taken up their quarters in the
opposite wing of the rambling mansion to that in which the dead body lay,
it seemed to Inspector Chippenfield--whose mind was very impressionable
where the fair sex was concerned--that Miss Fewbanks must be a very
peculiar girl to contemplate staying in the same house with the body of
her murdered father for nearly a week. He was convinced that she must be
a strong-minded young woman, and he did not like strong-minded young
women. He preferred the weak and clinging type of the sex as more of a
compliment to his own sturdy manliness.

His unfavourable impression of Miss Fewbanks was deepened when he saw her
and heard what she had to tell him. The girl had come up from the country
filled with horror at the crime which had deprived her of a father, and
firmly determined to