follow suit. When her hat was off, she began to take off her gloves.
As soon as they were on the table, the mother pushed them over to Mr.
Gryce. As he looked at them, the girl lifted off her cloak.

"Will--will he tell?" she whispered behind its ample folds into her
mother's ear.

The answer came quickly, but not in the mother's tones. Mr. Gryce's
ears had lost none of their ancient acuteness.

"I do not see that I should gain much by doing so. The one
discovery which would link this find of yours indissolubly with
Miss Challoner's death, I have failed to make. If I am equally
unsuccessful below--if I can establish no closer connection there
than here between this cutter and the weapon which killed Miss
Challoner, I shall have no cause to mention the matter. It will be
too extraneous to the case. Do you remember the exact spot where
you stooped, Miss Watkins?"

"No, no. Somewhere near those big chairs; I didn't have to step out
of my way; I really didn't."

Mr. Gryce's answering smile was a study. It seemed to convey a
two-fold message, one for the mother and one for the child, and both
were comforting. But he went away, disappointed. The clew which
promised so much was, to all appearance, a false one.

He could soon tell.