pargo and
himself into the drab-visaged room in which the journalist had seen
him before.

"What d'ye think of today's doings, Spargo?" he asked, as he proceeded
to unlock a cupboard.

"I think," said Spargo, "that some of you fellows must have had your
ears set to tingling."

"That's so," assented Rathbury. "Of course, the next thing'll be to
find out all about the Mr. Aylmore of twenty years since. When a man
won't tell you where he lived twenty years ago, what he was exactly
doing, what his precise relationship with another man was--why, then,
you've just got to find out, eh? Oh, some of our fellows are at work on
the life history of Stephen Aylmore, Esq., M.P., already--you bet!
Well, now, Spargo, here's the famous box."

The detective brought the old leather case out of the cupboard in which
he had been searching, and placed it on his desk. Spargo threw back the
lid and looked inside, measuring the inner capacity against the
exterior lines.

"No false bottom in that, Rathbury," he said. "There's just the outer
leather case, and the inner lining, of this old bed-hanging stuff, and
that's all. There's no room for any false bottom or anything of that
sort, d'you see?"

Rathbury also sized up the box's capacity.

"Looks like it," he said disappointedly. "Well, what about the lid,
then? I remember there was an old box like this in my grandmother's
farmhouse, where I was reared--there was a pocket in the lid. Let's see
if there's anything of the sort here?"

He threw the lid back and began to poke about the lining of it with the
tips of his fingers, and presently he turned to his companion with a
sharp exclamation.

"By George, Spargo!" he said. "I don't know about any pocket, but
there's something under this lining. Feels like--here, you feel.
There--and there."

Spargo put a finger on the places indicated.

"Yes, that's so," he agreed. "Feels like two cards--a large and a small
one. And the small one's harder than the other. Better cut that lining
out, Rathbury."

"That," remarked Rathbury, producing a pen-knife, "is just what I'm
going to do. We'll cut along this seam."

He ripped the lining carefully open along the upper part of the lining
of the lid, and looking into the pocket thus made, drew out two objects
which he dropped on his blotting pad.

"A child's photograph," he said, glancing at one of them. "But what on
earth is that?"

The object to which he pointed was a small, oblong piece of t