I turned, to find standing beside me the woman who had brought the note to Mrs. Lawrence in the library--the woman whose attitude of malignant triumph had so startled me. I blessed the chance which made it possible for me to question her alone. "Very well," I said. "Are you Mrs. Lawrence's maid?" "No, sir; I'm Miss Marcia's maid." "Ah!" I said, and permitted myself to look at her more closely. She was a woman apparently somewhat over thirty. She had very black hair and eyes, and her face, while not actually repellent, had in it a certain fierceness and hardness far from attractive. A fiery and emotional nature was evident in every line of it--a sinister nature, too, it seemed to me--and I remembered her as I had seen her standing in the library door, exulting in another's misery. I pictured her as the decorator had described her, sitting on the stair, grinning and biting her nails in a kind of infernal triumph. Why should Miss Lawrence have chosen such a woman to attend her? As I looked at her, I saw the folly of attempting to win her confidence--the whip was the only weapon that could touch her--and it must be wielded mercilessly. "Mrs. Lawrence wishes to see you," she said again, and I fancied there was defiance in the eyes she turned upon me for the merest instant. "In a moment. Was it you who found the note your mistress left for Mr. Curtiss?" "Yes, sir," and she glanced at me again, this time with a quick suspicion. "It was on her dressing-table, I believe?" "Yes, sir." "How did you happen to find it?" "I just happened to see it, sir." "It was lying in plain sight?" "Yes, sir." "Not concealed in any way--nothing lying over it?" She hesitated an instant, and shot me another quick glance before she answered. "I believe not, sir," she said at last. "Of course it wouldn't be concealed," I said reassuringly. "Miss Lawrence probably left it where she thought it would be most quickly seen, don't you think so?" "Yes, sir; I suppose so." "And her dressing-table was a very conspicuous place?" "Yes, sir; very conspicuous." "In that case," I said slowly, "it seems most peculiar that the letter wasn't discovered at once." She flushed hotly under my gaze and opened her lips to reply, but thought better of it and started hastily up the stair. I followed her in silence; but I had much to think about. What connection had she with Miss Lawrence's disappearance? What connection could she have? Miss Lawrence would scarcely make a confidante of her maid, more especially of such a maid as this! At the stairhead I held her back for a final question. "When did you see your mistress last?" "When she left her room to go downstairs to look at the decorations," she answered, so docilely that I was inclined to believe her former defiance wholly my imagination. "You remained behind in the room?" "Yes, sir." "And she did not return?" "No, sir." "Then how do you explain the presence of the letter on the dresser?"