course, if my deductions are correct. It all depends. Even a policeman
can make a mistake--isn't that so, Mr. Narkom?--and find himself led
away upon a false scent. It depends a lot upon the wiliness of the fox
he's in pursuit of. And in this case, when there's a--animal's a female,
one has the disadvantage of the woman's intuitive faculties and natural
gifts of deceit. 'The female of the species'--you know what Kipling
said, of course? That sounds rude, doesn't it? But it's amazingly true,
all the same--yourself, I'm sure, always excepted."

She made no answer to the little sally other than to pass a pale hand
across a paler forehead, and pat a piece of dark hair into place, with
that little gesture of forlornness which went straight to Cleek's heart.

"Then you have nothing more to tell me, Mr. Deland? Nothing for me to
build my hopes on save that a new element has entered the case----"

"Together with an old element--yes," responded Cleek softly, with a stab
at his heart for her pathetic appearance. "Just that. No more. I can
tell nothing until I have you all there before me, and then--well,
perhaps I shall be able to unravel the mystery for you, and put an end
to your sufferings in _that_ direction, at any rate. Would you be good
enough, as you're passing, to ask the constable on duty outside the
library door to come to me a moment? Mr. Narkom and I want to question
him about one or two things. There's another one _inside_ the room, so
there's no chance of any one getting in and falsifying clues while he's
away. Thanks very much."

She passed out, pale-faced, utterly forlorn, and the sagging droop of
her shoulders sent another stab of pity through Cleek's heart, while Mr.
Narkom--tender-hearted as a chicken, as he himself often put it--blew
his nose loudly and passed the handkerchief surreptitiously across his
eyes, and turned a sad face to his famous ally's.

"Poor girl, Cl--Deland, poor, poor, unhappy girl! It goes to my heart to
see any woman so desolate as that. And a good-looking woman, too! She
feels the whole wretched affair keenly. And if you'd only explained to
me some of those wonderful theories of yours and given me some inkling
of what you're going to say to 'em, I might have been a bit of help to
her, you know. Human sympathy's a comforting thing----"

"But not always so comforting when it emanates from the police, who will
probably wring her heart dry," returned Cleek with a twisted smile. "No,
no