"The inspector, having searched the bedroom again to see if he could find any papers, led the way back to the drawing-room. The desk was near the window, and unlocked; that is, it opened easily enough, and Derrick thought it was unlocked. But a glance showed him that the lock was broken. The desk has been forced," he said, and threw wide the lid, "and the contents have been removed," he added. Webb stared at the empty desk. There were a few bundles of receipted bills, some writing-paper and envelopes, and a stick or two of red sealing-wax. But no scrap of writing was there to reveal anything about Mrs. Brand. Yet on a knowledge of her past depended the discovery of the reason she had been stabbed in Troy. The inspector looked at the desk, at the floor, and drew his own conclusions. "Some one has been here eight days ago, and has removed all papers and pictures likely to give a clue to the past of this woman and to the identity of the husband." "How do you know?" asked Webb, startled. Derrick pointed to the muddy marks on the carpet. "The fact that the carpet is white betrays the truth," said he. "For the last month or so, that is, before and since the murder, we have had only one storm--that was eight days ago. The person who removed the portraits from the album and from the silver frame, who forced the desk and destroyed the papers, came on that day----" "The thunderstorm was at night," interrupted Webb. "Then at night, which would be the better concealment of his purpose. He came here with mud on his boots, as is proved by these marks. He wished to remove all evidence of Mr. Brand's identity. Therefore----" "Well," said Webb, seeing that Derrick hesitated. "I believe that Brand himself did so, and that Brand is the man who killed his wife in Ajax Villa." CHAPTER VIII PROFESSOR BOCAROS Mrs. Baldwin always called herself an unlucky woman, and lamented that she had to undergo misfortunes heavier than those of other people. But in truth she was better off than her laziness and grumbling deserved. Her income was small but sure, and if she lived unhappily, with her second husband the fault was hers. The man grew weary of her inattention to domestic comfort, and to her constant lamentations. It said a great deal for the absent Mr. Baldwin that he had lived with this slattern for so many years. The most sensible thing he ever did in his life was when he left her.