a pair of rubber-heeled shoes just showing themselves
under the edge of a chair. With sudden decision she left the bed and
dressed rapidly. It was not until she had put on her rubber-heeled shoes
that she paused. Her hesitation, however, was but brief. Stepping to
the bureau, she pulled out a lower drawer and running her hand inside,
touched a concealed spring. From the cavity thus exposed she took a
small automatic pistol, and with a stealthy glance about her, crept from
the room.

The library had been vacant fully an hour when a mouse, intent on making
a raid on the candy which Barbara had carelessly left lying loose on
one of the tables, paused as a faint creaking sound broke the stillness,
then as the noise increased, the mouse scurried back to its hole. The
noise resembled the turning of rusty hinges and the soft thud of one
piece of wood striking another. There was a strained silence, then, from
out of the darkness appeared a tiny stream of light directed full on a
white envelope bearing a large red seal.

The next instant the envelope was plucked from the hand holding it, and
a figure lay crumpled on the floor from the blow of a descending weapon.

It was closely approaching one o'clock in the morning before Mrs.
Brewster stirred from her comfortable bedroom chair. Taking up her
electric torch, which she kept always by the side of her bed, she walked
quickly down the staircase and into the pitch dark library. Directing
her torch-light so that she steered a safe course among the chairs and
tables, she approached one of the pieces of carved Venetian furniture
and reached out her hand to touch a trap-door. As she looked for the
spring she was horrified to see a thin stream of blood oozing through
the carving until, reaching the letter "B," it outlined that initial in
sinister red.

Scream after scream broke from Mrs. Brewster. She was swaying upon her
feet by the time Colonel McIntyre and his daughter Helen reached the
library.

"Margaret! What is it?" McIntyre demanded. "Calm yourself, my darling."

The frenzied woman shook off his soothing hand.

"See, see!" she cried and pointed with her torch.

"She means the Venetian casket," explained Helen, who had paused before
joining them to switch on the light.

Colonel McIntyre gazed in amazement at the piece of furniture; then
catching sight of the blood-stain, he raised the small trap-door or peep
hole, in the top of the oblong box which stood breast high, su