r sniffing about nervously with a low whine,
crawled under the bed and lay quiet. We spent but a few minutes in the
room and were just on the point of leaving, when the maid rushed in and,
calling Major Temple aside, addressed a few low words to him, apparently
in great agitation, at the same time handing him a sealed envelope. The
Major took it from her, passed his hand nervously over his forehead, and
turned to us. "Gentlemen," he said, in a frightened sort of a voice,
"Miss Temple cannot be found."

We all turned toward him in intense surprise. "What does this mean?"
asked the Inspector. "Where is she?"

"She has disappeared," replied the Major, as we hurriedly left the room,
McQuade locking the door carefully after him. "Her maid tells me that
she has searched everywhere for her, and she cannot be found. This
note, addressed to me, was lying upon her writing desk."

"Read it," commanded the Inspector, as we all hastily adjourned to the
library.

Major Temple opened the letter with trembling fingers. My own agitation
at this new development was equally great.

He glanced hurriedly through its contents, his face ashen, his lips
blue, then read aloud as follows:

"_My Dear Father:_

"I am going to London to see Mr. Morgan. They suspect him of the
murder. I overheard the police talking about it this morning. I do
not know what to do. I cannot let an innocent person suffer. It may
be better for me to remain away altogether. If I must speak I can
only ask for forgiveness.

"MURIEL."

If the earth had opened up and engulfed me, I could not have been more
astounded than I was when Major Temple finished reading this strange
letter. What on earth had she gone to London to see me for? The poor
girl, I felt sure, was laboring under some terrible misapprehension. I,
for one, had no fear of anything she could say. I glanced at her father.
He seemed shrunken and old, his head bowed upon his breast. Could he--?
I refused to think. Yet he either feared for himself, or--God help
me!--for her. No other emotion, no consideration for anyone else, could
have so terribly affected him. The note plainly enough meant that Miss
Temple knew who had murdered Mr. Ashton, and she knew that it was not I.
But would the police so regard it? I looked at the cold, accusing faces
of the two Scotland Yard men and groaned inwardly. In a moment the
Inspector spo