the paper, then, turning it over, upon the other; then shook the leaf
gently to rid it of the loose powder. He held it out to Mr. Cupples in
silence. On one side of the paper appeared unmistakably, clearly printed
in black, the same two finger-prints that he had already seen on the
bowl and on the photographic plate. He took up the bowl and compared
them. Trent turned the paper over, and on the other side was a bold
black replica of the thumb-mark that was printed in gray on the glass in
his hand.

"Same man, you see," Trent said with a short laugh. "I felt that it must
be so, and now I know." He walked to the window and looked out. "Now I
know," he repeated in a low voice, as if to himself. His tone was
bitter. Mr. Cupples, understanding nothing, stared at his motionless
back for a few moments.

"I am still completely in the dark," he ventured presently. "I have
often heard of this finger-print business, and wondered how the police
went to work about it. It is of extraordinary interest to me, but upon
my life I cannot see how in this case Manderson's finger-prints are
going--"

"I am very sorry, Cupples," Trent broke in upon his meditative speech
with a swift return to the table. "When I began this investigation I
meant to take you with me every step of the way. You mustn't think I
have any doubts about your discretion if I say now that I must hold my
tongue about the whole thing, at least for a time. I will tell you this:
I have come upon a fact that looks too much like having terrible
consequences if it is discovered by any one else." He looked at the
other with a hard and darkened face, and struck the table with his hand.
"It is terrible for me here and now. Up to this moment I was hoping
against hope that I was wrong about the fact. I may still be wrong in
the surmise that I base upon that fact. There is only one way of finding
out that is open to me, and I must nerve myself to take it." He smiled
suddenly at Mr. Cupples' face of consternation. "All right--I'm not
going to be tragic any more, and I'll tell you all about it when I can.
Look here, I'm not half through my game with the powder-bottles yet."

He drew one of the defamed chairs to the table and sat down to test the
broad ivory blade of the paper knife. Mr. Cupples, swallowing his
amazement, bent forward in an attitude of deep interest and handed Trent
the bottle of lamp-black.

CHAPTER IX

THE WIFE OF DIVES

Mrs. Manderson stood at the wi