r black, or the locks
that clustered halo-like about a forehead almost awful in its expression
of weird, unfathomable power, were brown or red, you could not nor would
you pretend to say. It was the character of the countenance itself that
impressed you. You did not even know if this woman who might have been
anything wonderful or grand you ever read of, were beautiful or not. You
did not care; it was as if you had been gazing on a tranquil evening
sky and a lightning flash had suddenly startled you. Is the lightning
beautiful? Who asks! But I know from what presently transpired, that
the face was ivory pale in complexion, the eyes deeply dark, and the
hair,--strange and uncanny combination,--of a bright and peculiar golden
hue.

"You dare!" came forth in strange broken tones from Mr. Blake's lips.

I instantly turned towards him. He was gazing with a look that was half
indignant, half menacing at the silent detective who with eyes drooped
and finger directed towards the picture, seemed to be waiting for him to
finish.

"I do not understand an audacity that allows you to--to--" Was this
the haughty gentleman we had known, this hesitating troubled man with
bloodless lips and trembling hands?

"I declared my desire to justify myself," said my principal with a
respectful bow. "This is my justification. Do you note the color of the
woman's hair whose portrait hangs with its face turned to the wall in
your room? Is it like or unlike that of the strand you held in your hand
a few moments ago; a strand taken as I swear, hair by hair from the comb
of the poor creature who occupied the room above. But that is not all,"
he continued as Mr. Blake fell a trifle aback; "just observe the dress
in which this woman is painted; blue silk you see, dark and rich; a wide
collar cunningly executed, you can almost trace the pattern; a brooch;
then the roses in the hand, do you see? Now come with me upstairs."

Too much startled to speak, Mr. Blake, haughty aristocrat as he was,
turned like a little child and followed the detective who with an
assured step and unembarassed mien led the way into the deserted room
above.

"You accuse me of insulting you, when I express disbelief of your
assertion that there was no connection between you and the girl Emily,"
said Mr. Gryce as he lit the gas and unlocked that famous bureau drawer.
"Will you do so any longer in face of these?" And drawing off the towel
that lay uppermost, he revealed the ne