That was all. We looked at each other at a loss to understand the
enigmatic wording--"the green curse."

"I rather expected something of the sort," observed Kennedy. "By
the way, the shoenails were French, as I surmised. They show the
marks of French heels. It was Miss White herself who hid in the
mummy-case."

"Impossible," exclaimed Dr. Lith incredulously. As for myself, I
had learned that it was of no use being incredulous with Kennedy.

A moment later the door opened, and one of O'Connor's men came in
bursting with news. Some of the emeralds had been discovered in a
Third Avenue pawn-shop. O'Connor, mindful of the historic fate of
the Mexican Madonna and the stolen statue of the Egyptian goddess
Neith, had instituted a thorough search with the result that at
least part of the pilfered jewels had been located. There was only
one clue to the thief, but it looked promising. The pawnbroker
described him as "a crazy Frenchman of an artist," tall, with a
pointed black beard. In pawning the jewels he had given the name
of Edouard Delaverde, and the city detectives were making a
canvass of the better known studios in hope of tracing him.

Kennedy, Dr. Lith and myself walked around to the boarding-house
where Miss White lived. There was nothing about it, from the
landlady to the gossip, to distinguish it from scores of other
places of the better sort. We had no trouble in finding out that
Miss White had not returned home at all the night before. The
landlady seemed to look on her as a woman of mystery, and confided
to us that it was an open secret that she was not an American at