Miss Lucetta of my sympathy nor let your own interests slack in the
investigations which are going on under our noses."

And with a quick, sharp bow, he made his way to the gate, whither I
followed him in time to see him set his foot upon a patch of sage.

"You will begin at this place," he cried, "and work east; and,
gentlemen, something tells me that we shall be successful."

With almost a simultaneous sound a dozen spades and picks struck the
ground. The digging up of Mother Jane's garden had begun in earnest.

XXXV

THE DOVE

I remained at the gate. I had been bidden to show my interest in what
was going on in Mother Jane's garden, and this was the way I did it. But
my thoughts were not with the diggers. I knew, as well then as later,
that they would find nothing worth the trouble they were taking; and,
having made up my mind to this, I was free to follow the lead of my own
thoughts.

They were not happy ones; I was neither satisfied with myself nor with
the prospect of the long day of cruel suspense that awaited us. When I
undertook to come to X., it was with the latent expectation of making
myself useful in ferreting out its mystery. And how had I succeeded? I
had been the means through which one of its secrets had been discovered,
but not _the_ secret; and while Mr. Gryce was good enough, or wise
enough, to show no diminution in his respect for me, I knew that I had
sunk a peg in his estimation from the consciousness I had of having sunk
two, if not three pegs, in my own.

This was a galling thought to me. But it was not the only one which
disturbed me. Happily or unhappily, I have as much heart as pride, and
Lucetta's despair, and the desperate resolve to which it had led, had
made an impression upon me which I could not shake off.

Whether she knew the criminal or only suspected him; whether in the heat
of her sudden anguish she had promised more or less than she could
perform, the fact remained that we (by whom I mean first and above all,
Mr. Gryce, the ablest detective on the New York force, and myself, who,
if no detective, am at least a factor of more or less importance in an
inquiry like this) were awaiting the action of a weak and suffering girl
to discover what our own experience should be able to obtain for us
unassisted.

That Mr. Gryce felt that he was playing a great card in thus enlisting
her despair in our service, did not comfort me. I am not fond of games
in which real hearts