of Mary, in plain view on the desk. But Mr. Cook's back was as yet
towards that part of the room, and, taking advantage of the moment,
I returned and asked him if that was all he had to tell us about this
matter.

"Yes, sir."

"Then," said Mr. Gryce, with a glance at Q, "isn't there something you
can give Mr. Cook in payment for his story? Look around, will you?"

Q nodded, and moved towards a cupboard in the wall at the side of the
mantel-piece; Mr. Cook following him with his eyes, as was natural,
when, with a sudden start, he crossed the room and, pausing before the
mantelpiece, looked at the picture of Eleanore which I had put there,
gave a low grunt of satisfaction or pleasure, looked at it again, and
walked away. I felt my heart leap into my throat, and, moved by what
impulse of dread or hope I cannot say, turned my back, when suddenly I
heard him give vent to a startled exclamation, followed by the words:
"Why! here she is; this is her, sirs," and turning around saw him
hurrying towards us with Mary's picture in his hands.

I do not know as I was greatly surprised. I was powerfully excited, as
well as conscious of a certain whirl of thought, and an unsettling of
old conclusions that was very confusing; but surprised? No. Mr. Gryce's
manner had too well prepared me.

"This the lady who was married to Mr. Clavering, my good man? I guess
you are mistaken," cried the detective, in a very incredulous tone.

"Mistaken? Didn't I say I would know her anywhere? This is the lady, if
she is the president's wife herself." And Mr. Cook leaned over it with a
devouring look that was not without its element of homage.

"I am very much astonished," Mr. Gryce went on, winking at me in a slow,
diabolical way which in another mood would have aroused my fiercest
anger. "Now, if you had said the other lady was the one"--pointing to
the picture on the mantelpiece," I shouldn't have wondered."

"She? I never saw that lady before; but this one--would you mind telling
me her name, sirs?"

"If what you say is true, her name is Mrs. Clavering."

"Clavering? Yes, that was his name."

"And a very lovely lady," said Mr. Gryce. "Morris, haven't you found
anything yet?"

Q, for answer, brought forward glasses and a bottle.

But Mr. Cook was in no mood for liquor. I think he was struck with
remorse; for, looking from the picture to Q, and from Q to the picture,
he said:

"If I have done this lady wrong by my talk, I 'll never for