ng seemed to move across one of the dormer windows.
It was so vague, so shadowy, that one could not distinguish its
outline; one could only think that something moved.

The Author gave an exclamation and switched on his electric torch,
trying to focus the circle of light upon that particular window.
There was nothing there. Only, it seemed to me that something,
incredibly swift and silent, flashed down one of the bewildering
turns to which our attic is addicted. But when we ran forward, the
passage was empty. We brought up at the red brick square of one of
the chimney stacks.

Almost savagely The Author flashed his light over every inch of wall
and floor. Nothing. But on the close and musty air stole, not a
sound, but a scent.

The Author swung around and trotted back. The window across which we
thought we had seen something move was fastened from the inside, and
there were one or two wooden boxes and a leather-covered trunk in
the dormer recess. He sniffed hound-like around these, and with an
exclamation leaned over. Behind the trunk crouched--Potty Black,
with a mouse clamped in her jaws.

"For heaven's sake!" cried Alicia. "The cat! Sophy, what we heard
was the cat!"

"Let us go," said The Author. And feeling rather silly, we trailed
after him.

"You see," said I, "there is nothing. There never is anything."

"Come in my room for a minute," The Author whispered, and there was
that in his voice which made us obey.

Inside his door, he opened his hand. In his palm was a soiled and
crumpled scrap of tough, parchment-like paper about the size of an
ordinary playing-card, so frayed and creased that one had difficulty
in deciphering the writing on it. There clung to it a faint and
unforgetable scent.

"It was behind the trunk, partly under the cat's black paw. I
smelled it when I leaned over, and I thought we might as well have a
look at it." said The Author.

And on the following page is what The Author had found.

'"Shades of E.A. Poe, and Robert Louis the Beloved! What have we
here?" cried The Author, joyously, and stood on one leg like a
stork. "Was there a Hynds woman named Helen? 'Turn Hellen's Key
three tens and three?' Some keyhole! I say, Miss Smith, let me keep
this for a while, will you?"

"Do, Sophy, let him keep it!" pleaded Alicia.

{~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~}
{ _Turne Hellens Keye_ }
{ _Three Tennes & Three_ }