“Ah, how did it?” The laughing face was sober now and she seemed appalled at the question. “Jack says some one must have found it in the car-seat where I left it, and he”--she lowered her voice--“he must be the--” “The murderer,” I supplied calmly. “It does look that way. You have witnesses, I suppose, who saw you in that train?” “Mercy, yes! Lots of them. The train reaches Marathon Park at 12: 50, and is due here at one o'clock. Ever so many people got out at our station. There were six in our own party, and others besides. And the conductor knows me, and everybody knows Jack. He's Mr. John Le Roy Cunningham.” It was impossible to doubt all this. Further corroboration it might be well to get, but there was not the slightest question in my mind as to the little lady's truthfulness. “I thank you, Mrs. Cunningham,” I said, “for coming to us with your story. You may not be able to get your bag to-day, but I assure you it will, be sent to you as soon as a few inquiries can be made. These are merely for the sake of formalities, for, as you say, your fellow townspeople can certify to your presence on the train, and your leaving it at the Marathon Park station.” “Yes,” she replied; “and”--she handed me a paper--“there's my husband's address, and his lawyer's address, and the addresses of all the people that were in our party that night. Jack said you might like to have the list. He would have come himself to-day, only he's fearfully busy. And I said I didn't mind coming alone, just to see Miss Lloyd. I wouldn't have gone to a jury meeting, though. And I'm in no hurry for the bag. In fact, I don't care much if I never get it. It wasn't the value of the thing that made me come at all, but the fear that my bag might make trouble for Miss Lloyd. Jack said it might. I don't see how, myself, but I'm a foolish little thing, with no head for business matters.” She shook her head, and gurgled an absurd little laugh, and then, after a loquacious leave-taking, she went away. “Well?” I said to Florence, and then, “Well?” Florence said to me. It was astonishing how rapidly our acquaintance had progressed. Already we had laid aside all formality of speech and manner, and if the girl had not really discovered my mental attitude toward her, at least I think she must have suspected it. “Of course,” I began, “I knew it wasn't your bag, because you said it wasn't. But I did incline a little to the `woman visitor' theory, and now that is destroyed. I think we must conclude that the bag was brought here by the person who found it on that midnight train.” “Why didn't that person turn it over to the conductor?” she said, more as if thinking to herself than speaking to me. “Yes, why, indeed?” I echoed. “And if he brought it here, and committed a criminal act, why go away and leave it here?”