ce," came from the policeman
in a more humble tone. "Do you want to come in the house and see Miss
Langmore?"

"No, I don't want to see the girl. But I'll come into the house,"
answered the strange man, and walked up the piazza steps and into the
mansion, with the policeman by his side.

As soon as the fellow was ought of sight, Adam Adams drew closer and
looked under the bushes where the other had been searching.

At first he saw nothing, but then his keen eye detected a bit of paper,
caught at the foot of some shrubbery.

"More documentary evidence, perhaps," he murmured, as he shoved the
paper into his pocket. "I wonder if this connects with the piece I
found under the safe?"

He approached the window, the blinds of which were closed, and peered
through the slats. A light had been lit, and the policeman and the
stranger had just entered the room.

"I don't think you'll find much to interest you," said the officer.
"All of the others have hunted around, and they didn't find much."

The stranger walked around the apartment slowly, and then sank into an
armchair.

"Sit down and have a smoke with me," he said, pulling out his cigar
case. "You've got a long night before you."

"I am not going to stay up all night. The women folks and me are going
to take turns. They should have sent another man here, but the Chief
couldn't spare him, two of the men being sick."

Cigars were lit, and the pair smoked away for several minutes, talking
of the case in all of its details. Evidently the stranger agreed with
the general public regarding Margaret Langmore's guilt.

"Of course she'll put on a good front," said he, blowing a ring of
smoke into the air. "She's that sort--so I've heard. What does her
stepbrother say about it?"

"Not much, now. At first he didn't think her guilty, but after he
talked with me and the women folks, he changed his mind, I reckon.
It's a blow to him, for he thought a good deal of the old lady."

"Mr. Sudley!" came a call from the hallway. "Mr. Sudley, where are
you?"

It was one of the women who was calling, and, laying down his cigar,
the policeman left the library to see what she wanted.

The door had scarcely closed on the officer when the demeanor of the
other man changed. He arose, looked into the dining room, and listened
at the hall doorway for a second. Then he recrossed the apartment and
knelt before the safe. Adam Adams heard him mutter something to
himself as he