“On the contrary, let him come in, because what I am going to say will interest him,” she said. Claythorpe nodded to the butler, and a few seconds later Peter Dawes came into the room. He bowed to the girl and shook hands with Lord Claythorpe. “This is my niece--well, not exactly my niece,” smiled Claythorpe, “but the niece of a very dear friend of mine, and, in fact, the lady who is the principal loser in that terrible tragedy of St. James’ Street.” “Indeed?” said Peter with a smile. “I think I know the young lady by sight.” “And she was going to make an interesting communication to me just as you came in,” said Claythorpe. “Perhaps, Joyce, dear, you will tell Mr. Dawes?” “I was only going to say that this morning I received this.” She did not go to her bag, but produced a folded paper from the inside of her blouse. This she opened and spread on the table and Claythorpe’s face went white, for it was the five hundred thousand dollar bond which he had despatched the day before to Australia. “I seem to remember,” said the girl, “that this was part of my inheritance--you remember I was given a list of the securities you held for me?” Lord Claythorpe licked his dry lips. “Yes,” he said huskily. “That is part of your inheritance.” “How did it come to you?” asked Peter Dawes. “It was found in my letter-box this morning,” said the girl. “Accompanied by a letter?” “No, nothing,” said Joyce. “For some reason I connected it with the mail robbery, and thought that perhaps you had entrusted this certificate to the post--and that in your letter you mentioned the fact that it was mine.” “That also is impossible,” said Peter Dawes quietly, “because, if your statement is correct, this document would have been amongst those which were stolen on the night that Remington was murdered. Isn’t that so, Lord Claythorpe?” Claythorpe nodded. “It is very providential for you, Joyce,” he said huskily. “I haven’t the slightest idea how it came to you. Probably the thief who murdered Remington knew it was yours and restored it.” The girl nodded. “The thief being Four Square Jane, eh?” said Peter Dawes, eyeing his lordship narrowly. “Naturally, who else?” said Claythorpe, meeting the other’s eyes steadily. “It was undoubtedly her work, her label was on the inside of the safe.” “That is true,” agreed Peter. “But there was one remarkable fact about that label which seems to have been overlooked.” “What was that?” “It had been used before,” said Peter slowly. “It was an old label which had previously been attached to something or somewhere, for the marks of the old adhesion were still on it when I took it off. In fact, there were only a few places where the gum on the label remained useful.” Neither the eyes of the girl or Lord Claythorpe left the other’s face. “That is curious,” said Lord Claythorpe slowly. “What do you deduce from that?” Dawes shrugged.