interesting and pathetic beauty. From her garb and the arrangement of
her hair, it had evidently been painted about the end of our civil war.
In it was to be observed the same haunting quality of intellectual charm
visible in the man lying prone upon the floor, and though she was fair
and he dark, there was sufficient likeness between the two to argue some
sort of relationship between them. Below this picture were fastened a
sword, a pair of epaulettes, and a medal such as was awarded for valor
in the civil war.

"Mementoes which may help us in our task," mused the detective.

Passing on, he came unexpectedly upon a narrow curtain, so dark of hue
and so akin in pattern to the draperies on the adjoining walls that it
had up to this time escaped his attention. It was not that of a window,
for such windows as were to be seen in this unique apartment were high
upon the wall, indeed, almost under the ceiling. It must, therefore,
drape the opening into still another communicating room. And such he
found to be the case. Pushing this curtain aside, he entered a narrow
closet containing a bed, a dresser, and a small table. The bed was the
narrow cot of a bachelor, and the dresser that of a man of luxurious
tastes and the utmost nicety of habit. Both the bed and dresser were in
perfect order, save for a silver-backed comb, which had been taken from
the latter, and which he presently found lying on the floor at the other
end of the room. This and the presence of a pearl-handled parasol on a
small stand near the door proclaimed that a woman had been there within
a short space of time. The identity of this woman was soon established
in his eyes by a small but unmistakable token connecting her with the
one who had been the means of sending in the alarm to the police. The
token of which I speak was a little black spangle, called by milliners
and mantua-makers a sequin, which lay on the threshold separating this