over a year ago
as a matter of convenience, for he was always forgetting his keys, and
kept these at our office."

"He's a queer cuss," was the detective's only comment and Clymer broke
into the conversation.

"Did you find any address or paper in the safe which might prove a clew,
Ferguson?" he inquired.

"Nothing, not even a scrap of paper," and the detective's tone was glum.

"Did the safe look as if its contents had been tumbled about?" asked
Kent.

"No, everything seemed in order." Ferguson thrust his hand inside his
coat pocket. "There was one envelope in the right hand compartment which
puzzled me--"

"Hold on--was that compartment also unlocked?" asked Kent.

"It was," not giving Kent time to speak again Ferguson continued his
remarks. "As this was unaddressed I brought it to you, Mr. Kent, to ask
if it was your personal property"--he drew out the white envelope which
Helen McIntyre had brought Kent that morning and turned it over so that
both men could see the large red seal bearing the letter "B."

"It is my property," asserted Kent instantly.

"Would you mind opening it?" asked Ferguson.

"I would, most certainly; it relates to my personal affairs."

Ferguson looked a trifle non-plussed. "Would you mind telling me its
contents, Mr. Kent?" he asked persuasively.

Kent regarded the detective squarely. He could not betray Helen, the
envelope might contain harmless nonsense, but she had placed it in
his safe-keeping--no, confound it, she had left it in the safe for
Rochester--and Rochester was apparently a fugitive from justice, while
circumstantial evidence pointed to his having poisoned Helen's lover,
Jimmie...

"If you must know, Ferguson," Kent spoke with deliberation. "They are
old love letters of mine."

Clymer glanced down at the envelope which the detective still held, the
red seal making a distinct blotch of color on the white, glazed surface.

"Ah, Kent," he said in amusement. "So rumor is right in predicting your
engagement to Barbara McIntyre. Good luck to you!"

Through the open doorway to the dining room where the dancing had ceased
for the moment, came a soft laugh and Mrs. Brewster looked in at them.
McIntyre, standing like her shadow, gazed in curiosity over her shoulder
at the three men.

"How jolly to find you," cooed Mrs. Brewster. "And what a charming
retreat! It's much too nice to be occupied by men, only." She inclined
her head in a little gracious bow to Ferguson and