“No, I am quite sure that wasn’t the case with me,” the clergyman replied smilingly. “I remember that I was particularly careful to see that the letter went to the bottom of the box. I even took the precaution of peering into the slot after I had deposited it, to make sure that it had gone all the way down. I know letters sometimes stick in the slot cover, and, as this one contained money, I was especially careful in that respect.” “And you are equally positive that it was a pink envelope, are you, doctor? It couldn’t possibly have been any other color?” “I am quite certain that it was pink. To prove to you that I couldn’t possibly be mistaken on that point, I might repeat to you a little pun I made to the young lady who gave me the envelope. I said to her: ‘I guess the person who receives this will consider it the pink of perfection.’ Now, it stands to reason I couldn’t have made that pun if the envelope had been of any other color, doesn’t it?” “The young lady who gave you the envelope?” repeated Owen, seizing quickly upon these words. “May I ask you to explain what you mean by that, sir? Who was this young lady?” The clergyman smiled. “Why, yes, to be sure! How stupid of me! I am afraid that when I answered you a little while ago that nobody knew of my intention to mail the hundred-dollar bill, I was not quite accurate. On second thought, there was one person who saw me put the money into the envelope.” “And who was that person?” demanded Owen eagerly. “The young lady who gave me the envelope; she is employed as a typewriter in my friend Mr. Sammis’ office. It would be quite out of the question, of course, to suspect her of fishing the letter out of the box.” The clergyman laughed lightly. Owen did not echo his laugh. He stared at him in astonishment. “You mean to tell me, doctor, that you got that envelope from her?”