“Why, my uncle could have told you more. He knows all about the Grosvenors. My own knowledge of Camilla Grosvenor is merely family tradition. She was a woman of great force of character, and great personal attraction, I believe, though she was not exactly beautiful. When she was still under thirty she became the leader of a band of mystics and star-worshipers. I believe that she became infatuated with one of them, a young German, and that there was an elopement by water. This I remember, at least: her body washed ashore on the coast not very far from Hedgerow House.” “At Lonesome Cove?” “Yes. The very name of it chills me. For my husband it had an uncanny fascination. He used to talk to me about the place. He even wanted to build there; but Mr. Alexander Blair wouldn’t listen to it.” “Would you know the face of Camilla Grosvenor?” “Of course. The Elliott portrait hangs in the library at Hedgerow House.” Kent took from under his coat the drawing purchased from Elder Dennett. “That is the same,” said Mrs. Blair unhesitatingly. “It isn’t quite the same pose as the finished portrait. And it lacks the earring which is in the portrait. But I should say it is surely Elliott’s work. Couldn’t it be a preliminary sketch for the portrait?” “Probably that is what it is.” “Can you tell me where it came from?” “From between the pages of an old book. It must have been carelessly thrown aside. The book has just been sold at an auction in Martindale Center, and the drawing found by a man who didn’t appreciate what it was. I bought it from him.” “That’s rather wonderful, isn’t it?” “There are more wonders to come. Tell me how your necklace was lost, please.” “I don’t know. On the afternoon of July fifth I left Hedgerow House rather hurriedly. My maid, whom I trust implicitly, was to follow with my trunks, including my jewel case. She arrived, a day later, with part of the jewels missing, and a note from Father Blair saying that there had been a robbery, but that I was to say nothing of it.” “July fifth,” remarked Kent with his lids dropped over the keen gaze of his eyes. “It was the following morning that the unknown body was found on the beach near Mr.—near the Nook.” Her face showed no comprehension. “I have heard nothing of any body,” she replied. “Did none of the talk come to your ears of a strange woman found at Lonesome Cove?” “No. Wait, though. After the funeral, one of the cousins began to speak of a mystery, and Mr. Blair shut him off.” “Your necklace was taken from that body.” Her eyes grew wide. “Was she the thief?” she asked eagerly. “The person who took the necklace from the body is the one for whom I am searching. Now, Mrs. Blair, will you tell me, in a word, how your husband met his death?” Her gaze did not falter from his, but a look of suffering came into her eyes, and the hands in her lap closed and opened, and closed again.