."

"Well, to me it does. What were these secret papers? They were letters,
I am told."

"I believe so. And you, Rolfe, as a man of the world, know that a married
woman would not like the police to get possession of letters she had
written to a man of the reputation of Sir Horace Fewbanks."

"I admit that her action is capable of a comparatively innocent
interpretation, but taken in conjunction with other things it looks to me
mighty suspicious. In Hill's statement to us he told us that on the night
of the murder, Birchill when hiding in the garden waiting for the lights
to go out before breaking into the house, heard the front door slam and
saw a stylish sort of woman walk down the path to the gate."

"That was not Mrs. Holymead," said Crewe.

"How do you know? If it was not her, who was it? Do you know?"

"I think I know, and when I am at liberty to speak I will tell you."

"Then there is a third point," continued Rolfe. "Look at this
handkerchief you brought. I saw a handkerchief of exactly similar pattern
at Mrs. Holymead's house when I called there."

"Wasn't that the property of her French cousin, Mademoiselle Chiron?"

"Yes, she dropped it on the floor while I was there. But it is probable
the handkerchief was one of a set given her by Mrs. Holymead."

"Quite probably, Rolfe. But scores of ladies who are fond of expensive
things have handkerchiefs of a similar pattern. You will find if you
inquire among the West End shops, that although it is a dainty, expensive
article from the man's point of view, there is nothing singular about the
quality or the pattern."

"Perhaps so," said Rolfe, "but the possession of handkerchiefs of this
kind is surely suspicious when taken in conjunction with her removal of
the letters. I wish I could get hold of that infernal scoundrel Hill
again. I am convinced that he knows a great deal more about this murder
than he has yet told us, and a great deal more about Mrs. Holymead and
her letters. I've had his shop watched day and night since he
disappeared, but he keeps close to his burrow, and I've not been able to
get on his track."

"I'd give up watching for him if I were you," said Crewe, as he flicked
the ash of his cigar into the fireplace. "You're not likely to find him
now. As a matter of fact, he has left the country."

"Hill left the country?" echoed Rolfe. "I think you are mistaken there,
Mr. Crewe. He had no money; how could he get away?"

Crewe selected anothe