In one of the bedrooms in that same corridor, a room which we decided was Eva's from various dresses and other things it contained, we found standing upon the table a large panel photograph of a kind-faced, middle-aged woman, which the local officer at once recognised as that of Lady Glaslyn. Boyd, taking it up, examined it long and earnestly beneath the light of the bull's-eye. "Devilish good-looking for a woman of her age," he remarked thoughtfully, as he slowly replaced it upon the table. "Do you know?" he added, turning to me, "I fancy I've met her somewhere--but where I can't for the life of me recollect. What do you know about the family?" "Very little beyond what's in Burke, which only devotes three lines to them. The baronetcy was conferred in 1839, and Lady Glaslyn's husband, Sir Thomas, died six years ago. No mention is made of their country seat, so I presume they haven't one." Boyd stroked his beard and gave vent to a low grunt of doubt. "Well," he said, "I'm almost positive that I've met her before somewhere. I wonder where it was." Quickly we rearranged the articles in the room which we had disturbed and passed on to the next, the door of which faced us, forming the end of the long corridor. "Hulloa!" Boyd cried. "What does this mean?" We both looked, and by the light of the lantern saw that the door was a double one and that right across it was a long bar of steel or iron painted and grained the colour of the wood so as not to be noticeable, and securing it strongly. "This is decidedly funny," the detective continued, bending down to examine something. "Look! it's sealed!" I bent eagerly beside him, and there saw that the great sliding bolt ran in three large hasps, and that one of the knobs of the bolt was secured by wire to the hasp, the two ends of the wire being secured together by a round seal of molten lead about the size of a shilling. By this the bolt was rendered immovable. "Extraordinary!" I gasped, as we all stood wondering what might be therein concealed. "If we cut the wire then our presence here will be betrayed," I said. But Boyd, who was still examining the seal with great care, exclaimed at last, pointing to it-- "Do you see two letters on the seal, `R.' and `M.'?" "Yes," I answered. "What do you think they denote?" "They tell us how this seal was impressed," the detective responded. "These initials stand for Rete Mediterranea, and the machine with which the seal has been impressed is one of those used at every Italian railway station to seal merchandise and passengers' baggage. It has certainly been placed upon the wire by one who knew how to handle the instrument with dexterity." "There must be something in that room which her ladyship desires to keep secret," I remarked, both amazed and excited at this latest discovery. "Yes," remarked Boyd. "At all hazards we must explore it." "But how," I queried, "without tampering with the seal?"