telling me,--"

"Yes," interrupted Craig. "Look, Miss Dodge, this is it."

He handed her the letter. She almost seized it, examining it
carefully, her large eyes opening wider in wonder.

"This is certainly my writing and my notepaper," she murmured,
"but I never wrote the letter!"

Craig looked from the letter to her keenly. No one said a word.
For a moment Kennedy hesitated, thinking.

"Might I--er--see your room, Miss Dodge?" he asked at length.

Aunt Josephine frowned. Bennett and I could not conceal our
surprise.

"Why, certainly," nodded Elaine, as she led the way upstairs.

It was a dainty little room, breathing the spirit of its mistress.
In fact it seemed a sort of profanation as we all followed in
after her. For a moment Kennedy stood still, then he carefully
looked about. At the side of the bed, near the head, he stooped
and picked up something which he held in the palm of his hand. I
bent over. Something gleamed in the morning sunshine--some little
thin pieces of glass. As he tried deftly to fit the tiny little
bits together, he seemed absorbed in thought. Quickly he raised it
to his nose, as if to smell it.