all?"

"No, or else I didn't notice."

"Did he leave nothing that might enable us to find him?"

"No, sir, nothing. Or yes, perhaps, but I don't suppose that will be any
good."

"What was it? What do you mean?"

"It gave him a good deal of trouble to get the lady into the wagon,
because she had fainted again. He lost his glove in doing it. I have it
down stairs in my room, for I sleep down stairs again since the lady has
gone."

Muller had risen from his chair and walked over to the old writing desk
which stood beside one window. There were several sheets of ordinary
brown paper on it and sharp pointed pencil and also something not
usually found on writing desks, a piece of bread from which some of the
inside had been taken. "Everything as I expected it," he said to himself.
"The young lady made up the package in the last few moments that she was
left alone here."

He turned again to the old woman and commanded her to lead him down
stairs. "What sort of a carriage was it in which they took the lady
away?" he asked as they went down.

"A closed coupe."

"Did you see the number?"

"No, sir. But the carriage was very shabby and so was the driver."

"Was he an old man?"

"He was about forty years old, but he looked like a man who drank. He
had a light-coloured overcoat on."

"Good. Is this your room?"

"Yes, sir."

They were now in the lower corridor, where they found Amster walking up
and down. The woman opened the door of the little room, and took a glove
from a cupboard. Muller put it in his pocket and told the woman not to
leave the house for anything, as she might be sent for to come to the
police station at any moment. Then he went out into the street with
Amster. When they were outside in the sunlight, he looked at the glove.
It was a remarkably small size, made for a man with a slender, delicate
hand, not at all in accordance with the large stout body of the man
described by the landlady. Muller put his hand into the glove and found
something pushed up into the middle finger. He took it out and found
that it was a crumpled tramway ticket.

"Look out for a shabby old closed coupe, with a driver about forty years
old who looks like a drunkard and wears a light overcoat. If you find
such a cab, engage it and drive in it to the nearest police station.
Tell them there to hold the man until further notice. If the cab is not
free, at least take his number. And one thing more, but you will know
that