suddenly back, I added reassuringly: "It is not a police matter, sir,
but an entirely personal one. It may strike you as important, and it
may not. Mr. Jeffrey, I was the man who made the unhappy discovery in
the Moore mansion, which has plunged this house into mourning."

This announcement startled him and produced a visible change in his
manner. His eyes flew first to one door and then to another, as if
it were he who feared intrusion now.

"I beg your pardon for speaking on so painful a topic," I went on,
as soon as I saw he was ready to listen to me. "My excuse is that
I came upon a little thing that same night which I have not thought
of sufficient importance to mention to any one else, but which it
may interest you to hear about."

Here I took from a book I held, a piece of blotting-paper. It was
white on one side and blue on the other. The white side I had
thickly chalked, though this was not apparent. Laying down this
piece of blotting-paper, chalked side up, on the end of a large table
near which we were standing, I took out an envelope from my pocket,
and, shaking it gently to and fro, remarked:

"In an upper room of the Moore house - you remember the southwest
chamber, sir?"

Ali! didn't he! There was no misdoubting the quick emotion - the
shrinking and the alarm with which he heard this room mentioned.

"It was in that room that I found these."