“There is no sign of anything of the kind,” said Kenelm, when they had finished the last bundle. “Of course, there are several other places for such documents as these.” “There is a closet filled with them in one of the spare rooms,” she replied. They examined that, they looked through all the shelves, through the drawers and closets in Sir Ronald’s study, but there was no sign of the missing papers. Lady Alden’s face grew anxious. “We shall have the lawsuit after all, I am afraid,” said Kenelm. She looked at him. “There was something in John Conyer’s manner that I did not much like,” she said. “He seemed to fancy that Ronald was compelled to let him have The Willows.” “Men like him presume when they have a lady to deal with. Hand him over to me, Lady Alden. I will settle with him.” “I should like to please my husband,” she said, plaintively. “Is there any place we can search?” she asked. “I am anxious, too, that we should manage the matter so as to please Sir Ronald.” In vain they searched every possible place, but there was no trace of any such writings. “We must give it up as lost,” said Kenelm. If they had but done so this story would never have been written. Suddenly Lady Alden looked at him with a smile. “I am losing my memory,” she said. She took a key from the golden chain she wore; it was of a quaint fashion and made of gold. “On the morning Ronald went away he gave me this. He made me promise that it should never leave me, night or day, and it has never been out of my possession for one single moment.” Kenelm took it carelessly from her hands, unconscious as he did so that he held the key to the mystery of his life. “To what does it belong?” he asked. “To a small oaken box with golden clasps. It used to stand in Ronald’s room, but when he was going away he placed it in my room under my especial charge. He told me never to open it for it contained papers that were strictly private. Of course, the documents we miss are there. I had better open it and see.” She rang the bell and ordered the footman to carry the box into the drawing-room. “We will go there and look it over,” she said. Kenelm never forgot the fragrant, sunny room. The western sunbeams filled it with light and warmth; the flowers filled it with sweetest odors. Lady Alden sat down, for the search had fatigued her. As he saw her then, he saw her until he died. Her fair head rested against the pink velvet of the chair; her beautiful face, with its half-wearied expression, was turned to the window, so that the sunshine fell on it and formed a kind of halo around it.