table, and that which lay near to it, he kept his gaze obstinately
averted.

Five or six minutes passed in this fashion, Leroux expecting each to
bring a sudden outcry. He was disappointed. The searchers returned, Exel
noticeably holding himself aloof and Cumberly very stern.

Exel, a cigar between his teeth, walked to the writing-table, carefully
circling around the dreadful obstacle which lay in his path, to help
himself to a match. As he stooped to do so, he perceived that in the
closed right hand of the dead woman was a torn scrap of paper.

"Leroux! Cumberly!" he exclaimed; "come here!"

He pointed with the match as Cumberly hurriedly crossed to his side.
Leroux, inert, remained where he sat, but watched with haggard eyes. Dr.
Cumberly bent down and sought to detach the paper from the grip of the
poor cold fingers, without tearing it. Finally he contrived to release
the fragment, and, perceiving it to bear some written words, he spread
it out beneath the lamp, on the table, and eagerly scanned it, lowering
his massive gray head close to the writing.

He inhaled, sibilantly.

"Do you see, Exel?" he jerked--for Exel was bending over his shoulder.

"I do--but I don't understand."

"What is it?" came hollowly from Leroux.