Then suddenly, a bright idea broke on my brain at once. The Index!
The Index! Presumably, as no fold seemed to obscure the first words,
the name began with what looked like a B. That was always something.

A man would have thought of that at once, of course: but then, I
have the misfortune to be only a woman.

I turned to the Index in haste, and looked down it with hurried
eyes. Almost sooner than I could have hoped, the riddle unread
itself. "Ber-, Berb-, Berc-, Berd-," I read out: "Berkshire: Berham:
Berhampore: that won't do: Berlin: Berling: Bernina: Berry--what's
that? Oh, great heavens!"--my brain reeled--"Berry Pomeroy!"

It was as clear as day. How could I have missed it before? There it
seemed to stand out almost legible on the flagstaff. I read it now
with ease: "Berry Pomeroy Athletic Club."

I looked up the map once more, following the lines with my fingers,
till I found the very place where the name was printed. A village in
Devonshire, not far from Torquay. Yes! That's it; Berry Pomeroy. The
murderer was there on the day of that athletic meeting!

My heart came up into my mouth with mingled horror and triumph. I
felt like a bloodhound who gets on the trail of his man. I would
track him down now, no doubt--my father's murderer!

I had no resentment against him, no desire for vengeance. But I had
a burning wish to free myself from this environing mystery.