“I don't know,” I replied; “but you surely don't suspect Louis of anything wrong. I was merely hoping, that if he did pass the office he might have looked in, and so could tell us of your uncle's well-being at that time.” “At what time?” “At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But since you are interested in the matter, will you not call Louis and let us question him together?” The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and for a moment was unable to speak. Of course this behavior on her part filled my soul with awful apprehension. Could it be possible that she and Louis were in collusion, and that she dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? I remembered the strange looks he had cast at her while being questioned by the coroner. I remembered his vehement denial of having passed the office that evening,--too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if I were to learn anything damaging to Florence Lloyd's integrity, I would rather learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again asked her to send for the valet. With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending fate, she rose, crossed the room and rang a bell. Then she returned to her seat and said quietly, “You may ask the man such questions as you wish, Mr. Burroughs, but I beg you will not include me in the conversation.” “Not unless it should be necessary,” I replied coldly, for I did not at all like her making this stipulation. To me it savored of a sort of cowardice, or at least a presumption on my own chivalry. When the man appeared, I saw at a glance he was quite as much agitated as Miss Lloyd. There was no longer a possibility of a doubt that these two knew something, had some secret in common, which bore directly on the case, and which must be exposed. A sudden hope flashed into my mind that it might be only some trifling secret, which seemed of importance to them, but which was merely a side issue of the great question. I considered myself justified in taking advantage of the man's perturbation, and without preliminary speech I drew the transfer from my pocket and fairly flashed it in his face. “Louis,” I said sternly, “you dropped this transfer when you came home the night of Mr. Crawford's death.” The suddenness of my remark had the effect I desired, and fairly frightened the truth out of the man. “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, and then with a frightened glance at Miss Lloyd, he stood nervously interlacing his fingers. I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had regained entire self-possession, and sat looking straight before her with an air that seemed to say, “Go on, I'm prepared for the worst.” As I paused myself to contemplate the attitudes of the two, I lost my ground of vantage, for when I again spoke to the man, he too was more composed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless he was influenced by Miss Lloyd's demeanor, for he imitatively assumed a receptive air. “Where did you get the transfer?” I went on.