I sat down again and examined my find more closely. I am no connoisseur of lace, yet even I could appreciate the handkerchief's exquisite beauty. But how came it here, crushed into a corner of this chair? Whose was it? Some instinct--or was it merely a delusive hope?--told me that it belonged to Marcia Lawrence--that it was she who had left it here--that the tears which dampened it were her tears, tears of bitter, bitter sorrow for dead hopes and a future which had changed from gold to grey. She had stolen into the library for a moment's peace, that she might face her sorrow and decide what she must do. She had left it---- But I shook myself together impatiently. All this was merely theorising; I must lay my foundation first, get my facts; then perhaps it might be possible to build a theory which would prove the right one. Thus far in the investigation, I felt that I had been met with evasion rather than with frankness; I suspected that an attempt was being made to puzzle and bewilder me; I could see that my presence in the house was unwelcome to Mrs. Lawrence. Well, my stay would be a short one; I dropped the handkerchief into my pocket, opened the door, and stepped out into the hall. The front door was open and two men were tugging an immense palm through it. Another was engaged in taking down the wreaths of smilax. By the tenderness with which he handled them I recognised the decorator. He stopped and looked at me inquiringly as I went toward him. "I've come down from New York," I explained, "at the request of Mr. Curtiss to assist him in finding Miss Lawrence. You, I believe, are the last person who is known to have seen her. I'd like to ask you a few questions." "Go ahead," he said, beaming with self-importance. "I'll be glad to tell you anything I know, sir." "Do you remember what time it was when you called Miss Lawrence down to have a last look at the decorations?" "It must have been nearly half-past eleven, sir. I remember hearing a clock strike eleven and thinking it'd take me about half an hour to get through." "Did you notice anything peculiar in her behaviour?" "Peculiar? No, sir. She was very kind and said some nice things about my work." "She did not seem sad nor depressed?" "Oh, no, sir; quite the contrary." "When she left you, did she return upstairs?" "I think so, sir. At least, she started for the stairs. I stepped into the dining-room for a moment to make sure everything was all right, and when I came out again she was gone." "Was there any one else in the hall?" "No, sir; I think not; not just at that moment, though of course people were passing back and forth through it all the time." "Did you notice a man loitering about--a stranger--middle-aged, dark-complexioned, with a dark beard or moustache--rather striking in appearance--perhaps a little dissolute?" "No, sir," he answered, with a stare of surprise. "I didn't see any stranger about the whole morning--nobody I didn't know."