trusted for any enterprise.'"

There was another dead silence, a silence, on Katharine's part, of
complete mental paralysis. Crawshay's face had lost all its smooth
petulance. He was like a man who had received a blow.

"But I don't understand," Katharine faltered at last. "That packet has
not been out of my possession, and I saw the notes put into it."

"By whom?" Crawshay demanded.

"By Mr. Phillips," she declared steadfastly, "by Mr. Phillips and
Doctor Gant together."

The detective turned the envelope over in his hand.

"The bills seem to have disappeared," he observed.

"They were in that envelope," Katharine persisted. "I have never seen
those papers before in my life."

Brightman's face remained immovable. One by one he slipped the papers
back into the envelope, thrust them into his breast pocket, and,
turning round, locked the door.

"You must forgive me if the rest of our investigations may seem
unnecessarily severe, Miss Beverley," he said.

Katharine sank back upon the sofa. She was utterly bewildered by the
events of the last few minutes. The search of her belongings was now