Inspector Val, pausing over Richard's translation
as he had written it down, "this would be my surmise. The note tells the
truth. It was written by a Frenchwoman who probably came from Ottawa.
She is in love with Storri, and jealous of Miss Harley, whom she thinks
Storri aims to marry. You said nothing about Storri seeing Miss Harley,
but he does. Miss Marklin was afraid to tell you and Miss Harley was
afraid to write you that feature of the situation, fearing you would
pitch in rough. It shows they have sense."

This was the first time Richard had heard how Storri enjoyed the
privilege of Dorothy's society while he was warned from the door. The
thought was fire. He sprang to his feet, growling an oath under his
breath.

"Take it easy," said Inspector Val, with a manner full of warning.
"Don't spoil a game just as the cards begin to run your way. After we
get our hands upon those French shares you may raise what row you like.
But take it easy now; try another cigar."

The prudent sagacity of Inspector Val was not thrown away, and Richard
saw the force of that gentleman's arguments.

"Tell me how you arrive at those beliefs about the note," said Richard.

"That's not so simple," returned Inspector Val. "It's like asking a
pointer to tell you how he scents a partridge. My argument takes
somewhat this route: I think the note tells the truth, as there's no
reason why it should lie. Moreover, it is a reasonable explanation of
Storri's command over Mr. Harley. I know a woman wrote it because she's
at such pains to call herself a man. Another thing, a man wouldn't have
marked this note 'Important!' It's important, but it gains no advantage
from being labeled. A woman, who acts from feeling, marks it 'important'
because she feels its importance. Now a man might feel its importance,
but he acts from reason rather than feeling, and in that respect is the
antithesis of a woman. It would never occur to a man to mark the note
'important,' because it would never occur to him that by so doing
anything would be gained. Then a man would have sent this through the
post office. A man is more cunning than a woman. The mails would have
served as well, and a messenger might be recognized and followed. To
send messengers is essentially a trick of the feminine. Your District
Messenger Service will tell you that nine-tenths of its calls are from
women."

"You have read Edgar Allan Poe, I take it," observed Richard, smiling
over the proc