us on the right track? Some fact
prior to the events of to-day, I mean; some fact connected with her past
life; before she went to live with the Fultons?"

"No. Yet let me think; let me think." Mr. Ransom dropped his face into
his hands and sat for a moment silent. When he looked up again, the
detective perceived that the affair was hopeless so far as he was
concerned. "No," he repeated, this time with unmistakable emphasis,
"she has always appeared buoyant and untrammeled. But then I have only
known her six months."

"Tell me her history so far as you know it. What do you know of her life
previous to your meeting her?"

"It was a very simple one. She had a country bringing up, having been
born in a small village in Connecticut. She was one of three children and
the only one who has survived; her sister, who was her twin, died when
she was a small child, and a brother some five years ago. Her fortune was
willed her, as I have already told you, by a great-uncle. It is entirely
in her own hands. Left an orphan early, she lived first with her brother;
then when he died, with one relative after another, till lastly she
settled down with the Fultons. I know of no secret in her life, no
entanglement, not even of any prior engagements. Yet that man with the
twisted jaw was not unknown to her, and if he is a relative, as she said,
you should have no difficulty in locating him."

"I have a man on his track," Gerridge replied. "And one on the girl's
too; I mean, of course, Bela Burton's. They will report here up to twelve
o'clock to-night. It is now half-past eleven. We should hear from one or
the other soon."

"And my wife?"

"A description of the clothing she wore has gone out. We may hear from
it. But I doubt if we do to-night unless she has rejoined her maid or the
man with a scar. Somehow I think she will join the girl. But it's hard to
tell yet."

Mr. Ransom could hardly control his impatience. "And I must sit helpless
here!" he exclaimed. "I who have so much at stake!"

The detective evidently thought the occasion called for whatever comfort
it was in his power to bestow.

"Yes," said he. "For it is here she will seek you if she takes a notion
to return. But woman is an uncertain quantity," he dryly added.

At that moment the telephone bell rang. Mr. Ransom leaped to answer;
but the call was only an anxious one from the Fultons, who wanted to
know what news. He answered as best he could, and was recrossing
di