"And he gave you something handsome for it--eh?" The young woman, whom I knew could not refuse half-a-sovereign, colored slightly and smiled. "And who put that picture in its place?" I asked. "I did, sir. I found it upstairs." "He didn't tell you who the young lady was, I suppose?" "No, sir. He only said that that was the only photograph that existed, and that she was dead." "Dead!" I gasped, staring at her. "Yes, sir. That was why he was so anxious for the picture." Elma Heath dead! Could it be true? That sweet-pictured face haunted me as no other face had ever impressed itself upon my memory. It somehow seemed to impel me to endeavor to penetrate the mystery, and yet Hylton Chater had declared that she was dead! I recollected the remarkable letter from Abo, and her own declaration that her end was near. That letter was, she said, the last she should write to her friend. Did Hylton Chater actually possess knowledge of the girl's death? Had he all along been acquainted with her whereabouts? What the young woman told me upset all my plans. If Elma Heath were really dead, then she was beyond discovery, and the truth would be hidden forever. "After he had put the photograph in his pocket, the gentleman made a most minute search in this room," the domestic went on. "He consulted his plan, took several measurements, and then tapped on the paneling all along this wall, as though he were searching for some hidden cupboard or hiding place. I looked at the plan, and saw a mark in red ink upon it. He was trying to discover that spot, and was greatly disappointed at not being able to do so. He was in here over an hour, and made a most careful search all around." "And what explanation did he give?" "He only said, 'If I find what I want, Ann, I shall make you a present of a ten-pound note.' That naturally made me anxious." "He made no other remark about the young lady's death?" I inquired anxiously. "No. Only he sighed, and looked steadily for a long time at the photograph. I saw his lips moving, but his words were inaudible." "You haven't any idea of the reason why he called upon Mr. Leithcourt, I suppose?" "From what he said, I've formed my own conclusions," was her answer. "And what is your opinion?" "Well, I feel certain that there is, or was, something concealed in this house that he's very anxious to obtain. He came to demand it of Mr. Leithcourt, but what happened in the library we don't know. He, however, believes that Mr. Leithcourt has not taken it away, and that, whatever it may be, it is still hidden here." CHAPTER X I SHOW MY HAND On my return to London next day I made inquiry at the Admiralty and learned that the battleship _Bulwark_ was lying at Palermo, therefore I telegraphed to Jack Durnford, and late the same afternoon his reply came at the Cecil:-- "_Due in London twentieth. Dine with me at club that evening_--Jack."