spiteful little creature, he
could not leave it to starve, for her sake.

Morrow tried the kitchen door, but found it securely bolted from
within. The catch on the pantry window was loose, however, and Morrow
managed to pry it open with his jackknife. With a hasty glance about
to see that he was not observed, he pushed up the window and clambered
in, closing it cautiously after him. He stumbled through the
semi-obscurity and gloom into the kitchen; instantly the piteous cry
ceased and Caliban rose from the cold hearth and bounded gladly to
him, purring and rubbing against his legs. Mechanically he stooped and
stroked it; then, after carefully pulling down the shades, he lighted
the lamp upon the littered table, and looked about him. Everything
bore evidence, as had the living-room, of a hasty exodus. The fire was
extinguished in the range, and it was filled to the brim with flakes
of light ashes. Evidently Brunell or his daughter had paused long
enough in their flight to burn armfuls of old papers--possibly
incriminating ones.

On the table was the debris of a hasty meal. Morrow poured some milk
from the pitcher into a saucer and placed it on the floor for the
hungry kitten; then, taking the lamp, he started on a tour of
inspection through the house. Everywhere the wildest confusion and
disorder reigned.

Morrow turned aside from the door of Emily's room, but entered her
father's. There, save for a few articles of old clothing strewn about,
he found comparative order and neatness. The simple toilet articles
were in their places, the narrow bed just as Jimmy Brunell had left it
when he sprang up to admit his nocturnal visitor.

On the floor near the bureau on which the lamp stood, something white
and crumpled met Morrow's eye; he stooped quickly and picked it up. It
was a large single sheet of paper, and as the operative smoothed it
out, he realized that it must be the message which had been hurriedly
brought to Brunell in the early hour before the dawn. The paper had
lain just where he had dropped it, crushed from his hand after reading
the warning it contained.

Morrow turned up the wick of his own lamp and stared curiously at the
missive. The sheet of paper was ruled at intervals, the lines and
interstices filled with curious hieroglyphics, and at a first glance
it appeared to the operative's puzzled eyes to be a mere portion of a
page of music. Then he observed that old figures and letters, totally
foreign to