"We will leave that bow where it is for the present," he decided, "a secret between us three." And motioning for Correy to let the tapestry fall, he stood watching it settle into place, till it hung quite straight again, with its one edge close to the wall and the other sweeping the floor. Had its weight been great enough to push the bow back again into its former place close against the door? Yes. No eye, however trained, would, from any bulge in the heavy tapestry, detect its presence there. He could leave the spot without fear; their secret would remain theirs until such time as they chose to disclose it. As the three walked back the way they had come, the Curator glanced earnestly at the detective, who seemed to have fallen into a kind of anxious dream. Would it do to interrupt him with questions? Would he obtain a straight answer if he did? The old man moved heavily but the now fully alert Curator could not fail to see that it was with the heaviness of absorbed thought. Dare he disturb that thought? They had both reached the broad corridor separating the two galleries at the western end before he ventured to remark: "This discovery alters matters, does it not? May I ask what you propose to do now? Anything in which we can help you?" [Illustration: 1--Ephraim Short. 2--Mrs. Lynch. 3--Director Roberts. 4--Door-man. 5--Copyist. 6--Mrs. Alice Lee. 7-8--Mr. and Mrs. Draper. 9--Mr. Coit. 10--Mr. Simpson. 11--Prof. Turnbull. 12--Second Door-man. 13--Miss Hunsicker. 14--Attendant. 15--Miss Blake. 16--Officer.] The detective may have heard him and he may not; at all events he made no reply though he continued to advance with a mechanical step until he stood again at the top of the marble steps leading down into the court. Here some of the uncertainty pervading his mind seemed to leave him, though he still looked very old and very troubled, or so the Curator thought, as pausing there, he allowed his glance to wander from the marble recesses below to the galleries on either side of him, and from these on to the seemingly empty spaces back of the high, carved railing guarding the great well. Would a younger man have served them better? It began to look so; then without warning and in a flash, as it were, the whole appearance of the octogenarian detective changed, and turning with a smile to the two men so anxiously watching him, he exclaimed with an air of quiet triumph: "I have it. Follow and see how my plan works." Amazed, for he looked and moved like another man,--a man in whom the almost extinguished spark of early genius had suddenly flared again into full blaze,--they hastily joined him in anticipation of they knew not what. But their enthusiasm received a check when at the moment of descent Mr. Gryce again turned back with the remark: