proceeded to get the impressions of the fingers and thumbs of all
the servants.

It was quite a long and difficult piece of work to compare the
finger-prints we had taken with those photographed, in spite of
the fact that writers descant on the ease with which criminals
are traced by this system devised by the famous Galton. However,
we at last finished the job between us; or rather Craig finished
it, with an occasional remark from me. His dexterity amazed me;
it was more than mere book knowledge.

For a moment we sat regarding each other hopelessly. None of the
finger-prints taken at the hall tallied with the photographed
prints. Then Craig rang for the housekeeper, a faithful old soul
whom even the typhoid scare could not budge from her post.

"Are you sure I have seen all the servants who were at the hall
while Mr. Bisbee was here" asked Craig.

"Why, no, sir--you didn't ask that. You asked to see all who are
here now. There is only one who has left, the cook, Bridget
Fallon. She left a couple of days ago--said she was going back to
New York to get another job. Glad enough I was to get rid of her,
too, for she was drunk most of the time after the typhoid
appeared."

"Well, Walter, I guess we shall have to go back to New York
again, then," exclaimed Kennedy. "Oh, I beg pardon, Mrs. Rawson,
for interrupting. Thank you ever so much. Where did Bridget come
from?"