Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with
the truth.

"It was picked up--last night--from the lobby floor. There is
seemingly nothing to connect it with her death. Yet--"

The pause was eloquent. Mr. Challoner gave the detective an agonised
look and turned white to the lips. Then gradually, as the silence
continued, his head fell forward, and he muttered almost
unintelligibly:

"I honestly believe her the victim of some heartless stranger. I
do now; but--but I cannot mislead the police. At any cost I must
retract a statement I made under false impressions and with no
desire to deceive. I said that I knew all of the gentlemen who
admired her and aspired to her hand, and that they were all reputable
men and above committing a crime of this or any other kind. But it
seems that I did not know her secret heart as thoroughly as I had
supposed. Among her effects I have just come upon a batch of letters
--love letters I am forced to acknowledge--signed by initials
totally strange to me. The letters are manly in tone--most of them
--but one--"

"What about the one?"

"Shows that the writer was displeased. It may mean nothing, but I
could not let the matter go without setting myself right with the
authorities. If it might be allowed to rest here--if those letters
can remain sacred, it would save me the additional pang of seeing
her inmost concerns--the secret and holiest recesses of a woman's