"You speak very knowingly," said Mr. Ferris. "May I ask where you received your information?" It was Mr. Gryce who answered. "From letters. Mrs. Clemmens was one of those women who delight in putting their feelings on paper. Fortunately for us, such women are not rare. See here!" And he pulled out before the District Attorney a pile of old letters in the widow's well-known handwriting. "Where did you find these?" asked Mr. Ferris. "Well," said Mr. Gryce, "I found them in rather a curious place. They were in the keeping of old Mrs. Firman, Miss Firman's mother. Mrs. Clemmens, or, rather, Mrs. Orcutt, got frightened some two years ago at the disappearance of her marriage certificate from the place where she had always kept it hidden, and, thinking that Mr. Orcutt was planning to throw her off, she resolved to provide herself with a confidante capable of standing by her in case she wished to assert her rights. She chose old Mrs. Firman. Why, when her daughter would have been so much more suitable for the purpose, it is hard to tell; possibly the widow's pride revolted from telling a woman of her own years the indignities she had suffered. However that may be, it was to the old lady she told her story and gave these letters--letters which, as you will see, are not written to any special person, but are rather the separate leaves of a journal which she kept to show the state of her feelings from time to time." "And this?" inquired Mr. Ferris, taking up a sheet of paper written in a different handwriting from the rest. "This is an attempt on the part of the old lady to put on paper the story which had been told her. She evidently thought herself too old to be entrusted with a secret so important, and, fearing loss of memory, or perhaps sudden death, took this means of explaining how she came into possession of her cousin's letters. 'T was a wise precaution. Without it we would have missed the clue to the widow's journal. For the old lady's brain gave way when she heard of the widow's death, and had it not been for a special stroke of good-luck on my part, we might have remained some time longer in ignorance of what very valuable papers she secretly held in her possession." "I will read the letters," said Mr. Ferris. Seeing from his look that he only waited their departure to do so, Mr. Gryce and his subordinates arose. "I think you will find them satisfactory," drawled Hickory. "If you do not," said Mr. Gryce, "then give a look at this telegram. It is from Swanson, and notifies us that a record of a marriage between Benjamin Orcutt--Mr. Orcutt's middle name was Benjamin--and Mary Mansell can be found in the old town books." Mr. Ferris took the telegram, the shade of sorrow settling heavier and heavier on his brow. "I see," said he, "I have got to accept your conclusions. Well, there are those among the living who will be greatly relieved by these discoveries. I will try and think of that."