“‘By the way, I miss the key of your trunk—will you let me see if the interior is in good condition?’ I said as steadily as I could, although I felt my face turn red. “She looked at me as though surprised. “To-morrow you can do so, Joe—to-day you are in poor condition for anything. Take your mind off everything that excites it. I wish you would stay at home to-day and nurse your headache.’ “I professed to have business of unusual importance down town, and shortly after left the house for my office. “Now, Eric, give me your honest opinion—my mind is hardly in a fit condition to see and judge for myself.” The detective had listened intently. He could grasp the threads and draw them into one compact cord. The issue was before him. “Joe, it is beyond all question that her secret lies in that trunk—if we knew what it contains, nothing more would be needed.” “Yes, I suppose so,” rather wearily. “From the tenor of the letter Prescott received I am inclined to believe some one is about to run away with him, or he with her, rather.” Joe groaned dismally. “If in that trunk I should find some of her dresses and jewelry—well, I should be strongly inclined to believe it meant flight.” “No, no,” hoarsely, clutching his throbbing brow with both hands, “not that. Lillian would never be guilty of that. She may have flirted with the man—women are weak, I know—but that is the worst I will believe of her—the worst.” Darrell shrugged his shoulders. “Very good, Joe, but you must permit me to place my own estimation on things. My eyes are not blinded by love—I can weigh things calmly, and place their right estimation upon them.” “Eric, I said I would leave it all with you and I do, but until it is proven beyond all doubt, do not ask me to believe in her guilt. It will kill me if it is so.” “Trust in me, Joe, old fellow, I will act for you as though you were my brother.” “And—whatever comes, Eric—be gentle with Lillian—let me be the one to—oh! my God! I cannot believe it, and yet it seems as though a burning iron were branding it on my brain.” The detective was done for the present. From Joe’s offices he went to his own. Here he could sit down and review the situation in regular order. Darrell generally made notes of his subject, so that he might ever keep the circumstances before his mind. He now jotted down a few more headings, and then surveyed the case as seen through these spectacles which he had drawn on. Looking over his shoulder we can also get a resume of the case by reading what he filled up a page in his note book with. They were arranged under heads in numerical order, beginning at the start: 1—Paul Prescott, an artist, makes daily visits to Joe’s house when Joe is down town. 2—Lillian Leslie has a secret from her husband. 3—The paper dropped by Prescott is in her writing, and seems to promise an elopement. It is also signed L, her initial.