lope when the ink was
still undried on the part of it that came in contact with the flap, and,
the paper being of that rough-finish, spongy kind frequently affected by
women, the flap had absorbed the undried ink pressed against it.

"Have you a hand-mirror?" he asked, breaking a long pause.

She brought one from the bedroom. Holding it before the envelope flap,
he showed her the marks thus made legible. They were, on the first line:
"--edly de--," with the first loop or curve of an "n" or an "m"
following the "de"; and on the second line the one word "Pursuit!" the
whole reproduction being this:

edly de
Pursuit!

"Does that writing mean anything to you, Mrs. Brace?" Hastings asked,
keeping it in front of her.

She moved her left hand, a quiet gesture indicating her lack of further
interest in the piece of paper.

"Nothing special," she said, "except that the top line seems to bear out
what I've told you. It might be: 'repeatedly demanded'--I mean Mildred
may have written that she had repeatedly demanded justice of him,
something of that sort."

"Is it your daughter's writing?"

"Yes."

"And the word 'Pursuit,' with an exclamation point after it? That
suggest anything to you?"

"Why, no." She showed her first curiosity: "Where did you get that piece
of envelope?"

"Not from Berne Webster," he said, smiling.

"I suppose not," she agreed, and did not press him for the information.

"You said," he went to another point, "that the sheriff attached no
importance to your belief in Webster's guilt. Can you tell me why?"

Her contempt was frank enough now, and visible, her lips thickening and
assuming the abnormally humid appearance he had noticed before.

"He thinks the footsteps which Miss Sloane says she heard are the
deciding evidence. He accuses a young man named Russell, Eugene Russell,
who's been attentive to Mildred."

Hastings was relieved.

"Crown's seen him, seen Russell?" he asked, not troubling to conceal his
eagerness.

On that, he saw the beginnings of wrath in her eyes. The black eyebrows
went upward, the thin nostrils expanded, the lips set to a line no
thicker than the edge of a knife.

"You, too, will----"

She broke off, checked by the ringing of the wall telephone in the
entrance hall. She answered the call, moving without haste. It was for
Mr. Hastings, she said, going back to her seat.

He regretted the inter