“‘R. A. DUKE.’ “The letter was addressed to ‘Miss Duke, The Cedars, Hampstead, London.’ Both note and letter are enclosed herewith. “The tickets on this route are dealt with as follows: There is no check on passengers leaving the wharf, as this would entail too long a delay at the gangway. On coming on board, passengers apply at the chief steward’s office, have their tickets either collected or punched, and get their berth numbers and a landing ticket. The landing tickets are collected as the travellers go ashore, and this constitutes the check that all have paid for their passage. On the occasion in question, 187 landing tickets were given out, and only 186 were collected, showing that one of the passengers who came aboard at Harwich did not go ashore at the Hook. “A search of the ship revealed no trace of the missing man, nor had any one seen him passing through the corridors or on the deck during the night. The chief steward recalled his application for his berth, which had been reserved in advance, and remembered having noticed that the old man was absent-minded, and seemed to be suffering from acute repressed excitement. “The suitcase was found to contain articles of toilet and clothing suitable for an absence of three or four days, but nothing to throw any further light on the tragedy. We are sending it to you for transmission to Miss Duke, to whom presumably it belongs.” When Inspector French had read the report he turned his attention to the letter. The envelope was square and of good quality paper, and the address was in Mr. Duke’s handwriting. French sat turning it over. He wondered. . . . He would rather not, but on second thoughts he believed he ought. . . . There might be something that would give him a hint. . . . He took a Gillette razor blade from his drawer, and inserting it beneath the gummed flap, worked it this way and that. In a moment the envelope was open, and he drew out a letter and cautiously unfolded it. It also was written by Mr. Duke, and read: “MY DEAREST SYLVIA, “When you receive this you will have heard what I am about to do. My dear, I will not try to justify myself; I suppose I should be brave and fight to the end. But I just couldn’t bear the ruin and disgrace which face me. Even before the robbery things were not going too well. As you know, the war hit businesses like mine worse than most. Now, even if the insurance company paid, I shouldn’t get clear; I should still be many thousands in debt. Sylvia, don’t think too hardly of me, but I couldn’t face it. Loss of position, friends, home, everything—and at my time of life. I just couldn’t.