or I shall ring the bell and have you dismissed."

Her fear and excitement made me think that perhaps I was on the track
of new developments, and lest she should carry out her threat of ringing
the bell, I plunged at once into the subject.

"Mrs. Purvis, have you lost a gold-mesh bag?" I said bluntly.

"No, I haven't," she snapped, "and if I had, I should take means to
recover it, and not wait for a detective to come and ask me about it."

I was terribly disappointed. To be sure she might be telling a falsehood
about the bag, but I didn't think so. She was angry, annoyed, and a
little frightened at my intrusion, but she was not at all embarrassed at
my question.

"Are you quite sure you have not lost a gold-link bag?" I insisted, as
if in idiotic endeavor to persuade her to have done so.

"Of course I'm sure," she replied, half laughing now; "I suppose I
should know it if I had done so."

"It's a rather valuable bag," I went on, "with a gold frame-work and
gold chain."

"Well, if it's worth a whole fortune, it isn't my bag," she declared;
"for I never owned such a one."

"Well," I said, in desperation, "your visiting card is in it."

"My visiting card!" she said, with an expression of blank wonderment.
"Well, even if that is true, it doesn't make it my bag. I frequently
give my cards to other people."

This seemed to promise light at last. Somehow I couldn't doubt her
assertion that it was not her bag, and yet the thought suddenly occurred
to me if she were clever enough to be implicated in the Crawford
tragedy, and if she had left her bag there, she would be expecting this
inquiry, and would probably be clever enough to have a story prepared.

"Mrs. Purvis, since you say it is not your bag, I'm going to ask you, in
the interests of justice, to help me all you can."

"I'm quite willing to do so, sir. What is it you wish to know?"

"A crime has been committed in a small town in New Jersey. A gold-link
bag was afterward discovered at the scene of the crime, and though none
of its other contents betokened its owner, a visiting card with your
name on it was in the bag."

Becoming interested in the story, Mrs. Purvis seemed to get over her
fright, and was exceedingly sensible for a woman.

"It certainly is not my bag, Mr. Burroughs, and if my card is in it, I
can only say that I must have given that card to the lady who owns the
bag."

This seemed distinctly plausible, and also promised further informatio