can see it. I found it pinned to the carriage
cushions one day just as I was going to drive Mrs. Ocumpaugh out."
(Evidently I had struck upon the coachman.) "And not only that. One of
the girls up at the house--one as I knows pretty well--tells me--I don't
care who hears it now--that it was written across a card which was left
at the door for Mrs. Ocumpaugh, and all in the same handwriting, which
is not a common one, as you can see. This means something, seeing it was
the date when our bad luck fell on us."

He had noted that.

"You don't mean to say that these things were written and put about
before the date you see on them."

"But I do. Would we have noticed since? But who are you, sir, if I may
ask? One of them detective fellows? If so, I have a word to say: Find
that child or Mrs. Ocumpaugh's blood will be on your head! She'll not
live till Mr. Ocumpaugh comes home unless she can show him his child."

"Wait!" I called out, for he was turning away toward the stable. "You
know who wrote those slips?"

"Not a bit of it. No one does. Not that anybody thinks much about them
but me."

"The police must," I ventured.

"May be, but they don't say anything about it. Somehow it looks to me as
if they were all at sea."

"Possibly they are," I remarked, letting him go as I caught sight of a
small boy coming up the road with several telegrams in his hand.

"Is one of those directed to Robert Trevitt?" I asked, crowding up with
the rest, as his small form was allowed to slip through the gate.

"Spec's there is," he replied, looking them over and handing me one.

I carried it to one side and hastily tore it open. It was, as I
expected, from my partner, and read as follows:

Man you want has just returned after two days' absence. Am on
watch. Saw him just alight from buggy with what looked like
sleeping child in his arms. Closed and fastened front door after
him. Safe for to-night.

Did I allow my triumph to betray itself? I do not think so. The question
which kept down my elation was this: Would I be the first man to get
there?

V

THE OLD HOUSE IN YONKERS

The old man whose handwriting I had now positively identified was a
former employer of mine. I had worked in his office when a lad. He was a
doctor of very fair reputation in Westchester County, and I recognized
every characteristic of his as mentioned by Miss Graham, save the frenzy
which she described as accompanying his addre