"Can't, my dear," he whispered back uneasily. "I promised to hold my tongue. But keep an eye on your mother. Now do." "There was no time to say any more, as Mrs. Baldwin was coming up the path with Arnold. She was telling him of her sufferings at great length, and nothing remained of the virago who had displayed such fierceness in the white room, save an unusually high colour. Tracey nodded to Calvert, who looked rather excited. Then came the toil of getting Mrs. Baldwin away, which took as long a time as it usually does to launch a ship. At last the cab drove off, and Gerty waved a farewell handkerchief to Tracey. Then the young men went into the house. "I don't envy you Mrs. Baldwin, Tracey," said Calvert. "I guess you've hit the bull's-eye," replied the American gloomily; "she's not such a fool as she looks, that old ma'am." "Oh, she doesn't look a fool," said Arnold easily, "only lazy." "And she ain't that neither. I guess there's spirit in the old party. You could have knocked me down flat when she rose on her hind legs." "Was she--er--on her hind legs?" inquired Calvert delicately. "Considerable! But it's private business. Only I hope I won't be mixed up with another murder case. One's good enough for me, anyhow!" "Do you mean to say----" began Arnold startled. "That she knows anything to the circus we're running? No, I don't. She's got her own little Sheol--sulphur, match, and all. Let her slide. I dare say it's all bunkum." "What is?" "Calvert, if you ask any more questions I'll chuck the case." "Oh, beg pardon," said Arnold, astonished at seeing the usually good-tempered man so roused, "don't mind my asking questions. I forgot the business was private." "Won't be long," said Tracey savagely, "if she's on the kind of job she's trying to carry out. Well," he raised his voice, "what's the best news with you?" "This," replied Calvert quietly, and from his pocket produced a scrap of paper. Tracey without displaying any wonder looked at it. It was half a sheet of pink writing-paper and contained only one line written across lengthways. "If you get the money look under the coffee stain!" Tracey read and re-read this, then raised his puzzled eyes. "What's this, Calvert?" "That," replied the young man calmly, "is a piece of paper which I received from Merry this morning!" "Was it enclosed in an envelope?" "Arnold handed the envelope which he was holding. It was addressed to 'Arnold Calvert' in a woman's hand of the sloping Italian kind. The writing on the paper was also in the same handwriting. I guess as Merry gave you this, and it's a woman's hand, that it comes from your dead cousin," said Tracey. "I thought so!" "Didn't she give it to Merry?"