We did not speak for a moment. Bartley's statement had been so unexpected that I saw a rather questioning look pass over Ranville's face. Though I had been surprised to discover that the man who had looked through the library window was the gardener, yet I had not thought there was anything suspicious in his action. His explanation, that he had seen the light in the building and had gone to see who was within, had sounded reasonable. The dull, stolid type of man he was seemed to make it impossible there could be any real motive in his trying to escape. A look at both Bartley and Ranville told me they had a different opinion. That the gardener had been asked by the Chinaman who had visited us to take one of the small caskets from the library was a rather startling piece of information. Perhaps it was even more—that bit of luck which Bartley said might lead to the solving of the mystery. Just as I was about to say this, Ranville spoke: “Looks to me as though we had better run up to the library again.” Bartley nodded, and as we rose to go out into the hall for our hats, all at once the door bell rang—a long, shrill ring which died away, only to be repeated. With a bound and a growl Trouble gave one leap, waking from his sound sleep, and rushed to the hall. As I was the closest to the front door, I went to open it, wondering who it might be. Pushing the growling dog behind me, I opened the door to find a messenger boy standing there. With a half grin he extended a telegram in my direction. I signed the book, gave the boy a tip, and brought the yellow envelope into the house. As I glanced at it, I saw it was addressed to Carter. Bartley took the telegram, and after a look at the name said that he thought he had better open it. He tore the thin paper, took out the message and slowly read it through. As he glanced over the words, I saw his eyebrows raise a little. Then he said, turning to us both: “Listen to this. It will interest you.” “Washington, D. C. “Know nothing of man you wired about under name given. No one that name ever connected with Embassy either here or London. Description given does not fit any one we have information about. Am wiring San Francisco and New York. “Wing.” As he finished reading it, he saw that Ranville was not familiar with the name which was signed to the telegram, so he said: “This is the answer to the message you told me Carter sent to his chief in Washington. Wing is the head of the identification end of the Secret Service. From what he says you can see they do not know your Chinese friend.” Ranville's face clouded for a moment. He informed us he had been of the opinion that the oriental had told us the truth. He added, there was only one explanation of his visit that now seemed reasonable. As we both waited for him to tell us what he thought, he continued: