“This is our real problem, Rittenburg,” John Cumberland explained. “We have certain reasons for believing, or hoping, that we know the writer. But we look to you for internal evidence, in the letter itself, to confirm our hopes.” “I see,” said Dr. Rittenburg, glancing queerly from father to son. “The internal evidence is here. And knowing what I already know of certain occurrences, I may say that this letter astounds me--literally astounds me!” Barry could scarcely contain his impatience; but: “While it is not perfectly formed in many places,” the doctor went on, “it nevertheless contains phrases that are beyond the compass of the ordinary student. In fact”--he removed his spectacles and polished them with a pocket handkerchief--“I doubt if there are six people in the United States of America who could have written it!” “Is it--signed?” Barry asked. “Yes!” Dr. Rittenburg replaced his glasses and bent once more over the letter. “It bears a name which I should be tempted to translate in a certain way if I were not afraid that my knowledge of other matters is unconsciously prejudicing my judgment!” “For God’s sake, read it!” John Cumberland was the speaker. “Very well.” Dr. Rittenburg cleared his throat and read: “‘Because I can be with you no more I send the ring’”--he glanced up, and: “I am almost sure that ‘ring’ is meant,” he said, and read on: “‘By this you will know. Do not lament me or look in many places. Forget. There is nothing else. My heart I leave behind!’” Again Dr. Rittenburg looked up, and: “To the best of my knowledge,” he added, “the next, and final word, is _Zalithea!_” CHAPTER XXX. MARGUERITE DEVINA “The Moving Finger,” which waits for no man, moved on. But Zalithea did not return. The police had relaxed their efforts. They had nothing to work upon. It was obviously impossible to place the hieratic letter in their hands. Nor did its arrival assist the investigations of the private agency employed by John Cumberland. He allowed them to examine it, saying that the writing was believed to be in Princess Zalithea’s hand. They tried to trace the maker of the paper and of the envelope which had enclosed it, but failed. Their final effort was directed to the discovery of the messenger who had put the letter in the box. A reward of five thousand dollars was offered. No one claimed it. During these anxious days, Barry had not neglected the house of Mr. Brown. In a despairing effort, he had had the history of this country home examined--in vain. The property had changed hands during his absence in Egypt, and little could be learned of the former owner or of his associates. Agents had handled the transactions in both cases. The housekeeper--once interviewed by Jim Sakers--could not be traced. The nine days’ wonder lived its allotted span; and the world in general began to forget Princess Zalithea, who had flashed, a dazzling meteor, across the social sky of New York, and, like a meteor, had vanished.