NNINGHAM.

I smiled a little over the femininity of the letter, but as Parmalee
had prophesied, Marathon Park was evidently no place to look for our
criminal.

The foolish little woman who had written that letter, had no guilty
secret on her conscience, of that I was sure.

I telephoned for Parmalee and showed him the letter.

"It doesn't help us in one way," he said, "for of course, Mrs.
Cunningham is not implicated. But the bag is still a clue, for how did
it get into Mr. Crawford's office?"

"We must find out who Mr. Cunningham is," I suggested.

"He's not the criminal, either. If he had left his wife's bag there, he
never would have let her send this letter."

"Perhaps he didn't know she wrote it."

"Oh, perhaps lots of things! But I am anxious to learn what Mrs.
Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd."

"Let us go over to the Crawford house, and tell Miss Lloyd about it."

"Not this morning; I've another engagement. And besides, the little lady
won't get around so soon."

"Why a little lady?" I asked, smiling.

"Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply a little yellow-haired
butterfly of a woman."

"Just the reverse of Florence Lloyd," I said musingly.

"Yes; no one could imagine Miss Lloyd writing a letter like that.
There's lots of personality in a woman's letter. Much more than in a
man's."

Parmalee went away, and prompted by his suggestions, I studied the
letter I had just received. It was merely an idle fancy, for if Mrs.
Cunningham was going to tell Miss Lloyd her story, it made little
difference to me what might be her stature or the color of her hair.
But, probably because of Parmalee's suggestion, I pictured her to
myself as a pretty young woman with that air of half innocence and half
ignorance which so well becomes the plump blonde type.

The broad veranda of the Sedgwick Arms was a pleasant place to sit, and
I had mused there for some time, when Mr. Carstairs came out to tell
me that I was asked for on the telephone. The call proved to be from
Florence Lloyd asking me to come to her at once.

Only too glad to obey this summons, I went directly to the Crawford
house, wondering if any new evidence had been brought to light.

Lambert opened the door for me, and ushered me into the library, where
Florence was receiving a lady caller.

"Mrs. Cunningham," said Florence, as I entered, "may I present Mr.
Burroughs--Mr. Herbert Burroughs. I sent for you," she added, turning
to me, "because