"That letter," replied Mallow, promptly. "It was very bulky. I believed it contained a report of our conversation here to-day. Clara was in the next room. You remember how, when she heard my voice, she came in with an obviously feigned excuse? I noticed when she returned to the bedroom she left the door ajar. Overhearing us, of course, she became aware of your doubts as to Carson's identity. She probably became alarmed lest you should go further and discover her connection with him. That, I think, is the reason of her sudden departure; whilst the very existence of the letter seems to me to show that London was not her destination. Had she been going there, she need not have written it. She could have called at Poplar-Street, Soho, and said what she had to say. Do you follow? She has probably got out at some station on the way up, and is now on her way to Dover, _en route_ for Italy." Olive passed her hand over her forehead. "It's all very confusing," she said, in a troubled voice. "And all very fanciful, you might add," rejoined Mallow. "Are you sure she has taken her box?" "The chambermaid said so." Mallow shook his head. "We had better not rest content with second-hand evidence when we can have first," said he. "Where is her room? Can we go and see?" "Oh yes. I should have gone before, but I have been so confused with one thing and another. Let us go and search it at once." Taking a lighted candle from a side table, Olive led the way along the corridor. The room was not far away. They could find no box there. "She must have removed it while I was out," said Olive in dismay. "I took a stroll shortly after you left; my head was aching so. Oh, what a wicked, artful girl!" "She is probably quite used to these fittings," said Mallow, looking round the room. "Hallo! torn-up paper in the grate! We must look at this. Hold the candle a moment, please, Mrs. Carson." Clara had not been fool enough to leave behind anything likely to betray her. But one envelope which Mallow found proved the truth of one of his suppositions. It had an Italian stamp on the corner, and was addressed "Miss Clara Trall, Grand Hotel, Sandbeach, Inghilterra." "My husband's writing!" cried Olive, as Mallow rose and dusted his knees. "Yes; and from Florence--dated four days back. Look at the post-mark. This puts the matter beyond a doubt, Mrs. Carson. Your husband wrote to her to join him in Italy. She has gone to Dover, not to London." "But, surely, what can Clara be to that man?" "An accomplice, certainly." They returned to the sitting-room. Mrs. Carson sat down looking hopelessly bewildered. "What are we to do now?" she asked. "Communicate with the police?"