o anything."

Violet left the fire-place after a glance at the mantel-shelf on
which nothing stood but a casket of open fretwork, and two coloured
photographs mounted on small easels. The casket was too open to conceal
anything and the photographs lifted too high above the shelf for even
the smallest paper, let alone a document of any size, to hide behind
them.

The chairs, of which there were several in this part of the room, she
passed with just an inquiring look. They were all of solid oak, without
any attempt at upholstery, and although carved to match the stalls on
the other side of the room, offered no place for search.

Her delay in the third segment was brief. Here there was absolutely
nothing but the door by which she had entered, and the books. As she
flitted on, following the oval of the wall, a small frown appeared on
her usually smooth forehead. She felt the oppression of the books--the
countless books. If indeed, she should find herself obliged to go
through them. What a hopeless outlook!

But she had still a segment to consider, and after that the immense
table occupying the centre of the room, a table which in its double
capacity (for it was as much desk as table) gave more promise of holding
the solution of the mystery than anything to which she had hitherto
given her attention.

The quarter in which she now stood was the most beautiful, and,
possibly, the most precious of them all. In it blazed the five great
windows which were the glory of the room; but there are no hiding-places
in windows, and much as she revelled in colour, she dared not waste a
moment on them. There was more hope for her in the towering stalls, with
their possible drawers for books.

But Hetty was before her in the attempt she made to lift the lids of the
two great seats.

"Nothing in either," said she; and Violet, with a sigh, turned towards
the table.

This was an immense affair, made to accommodate itself to the shape of
the room, but with a hollowed-out space on the window-side large enough
to hold a chair for the sitter who would use its top as a desk. On it
were various articles suitable to its double use. Without being crowded,
it displayed a pile of magazines and pamphlets, boxes for stationery,
a writing pad with its accompaniments, a lamp, and some few ornaments,
among which was a large box, richly inlaid with pearl and ivory, the lid
of which stood wide open.

"Don't touch," admonished Violet, as Hetty stret