d never doubting that I had found an
explanation of the disappearance of the second bundle, I walked on,
deciding that if I had the police at my command I would have the sewer
searched at those four corners.

We rode home after visiting the drug-store. I was not going to subject
Lena or myself to another midnight walk through Twenty-seventh Street.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote C: This was _so_ probable, it cannot be considered an
untruth.--A. B.]

XXII.

A BLANK CARD.

The next day at noon Lena brought me up a card on her tray. It was a
perfectly blank one.

"Miss Van Burnam's maid said you sent for this," was her demure
announcement.

"Miss Van Burnam's maid is right," said I, taking the card and with it a
fresh installment of courage.

Nothing happened for two days, then there came word from the kitchen
that a bushel of potatoes had arrived. Going down to see them, I drew
from their midst a large square envelope, which I immediately carried to
my room. It failed to contain a photograph; but there was a letter in it
couched in these terms:

"DEAR MISS BUTTERWORTH:

"The esteem which you are good enough to express for me is
returned. I regret that I cannot oblige you. There are no
photographs to be found in Mrs. Van Burnam's rooms. Perhaps
this fact may be accounted for by the curiosity shown in those
apartments by a very spruce new boarder we have had from New
York. His taste for that particular quarter of the house was
such that I could not keep him away from it except by lock and
key. If there was a picture there of Mrs. Van Burnam, he took
it, for he departed very suddenly one night. I am glad he took
nothing more with him. The talks he had with my servant-girl
have almost led to my dismissing her.

"Praying your pardon for the disappointment I am forced to give
you, I remain,

"Yours sincerely,

"SUSAN FERGUSON."

So! so! balked by an emissary of Mr. Gryce. Well, well, we would do
without the photograph! Mr. Gryce might need it, but not Amelia
Butterworth.

This was on a Thursday, and on the evening of Saturday the long-desired
clue was given me. It came in the shape of a letter brought me by Mr.
Alvord.

Our interview was not an agreeable one. Mr. Alvord is a clever man and
an adroit one, or I should not persist in employing him as my lawyer;
but he never understood _me_. At this time, and with this letter i