"Indeed," Mary said coldly. "Perhaps you would like to bring that misfortune about?" "I should," Ralph retorted. "If I could be cruel to be kind like that, I should not hesitate for a moment. But we are getting a long way from the point. I said that if you had no hand in this business, you know who did it." "I have my suspicions. But, until I can verify them, it would be wrong to speak. Even if I knew for certain, I should hesitate to tell anybody what I had discovered. One thing I can promise you--the attempt will not be made again. . . . What are those people so excited about? Have they made some fresh discovery? Let us go and see." Sir George and the Inspector were closely examining some shining object that the latter held in the palm of his hand. There was a grim look on Slight's face. "What is it?" Ralph asked. "What is the latest sensational development of the mystery?" "This, sir," the Inspector exclaimed. "We have found this matchbox under the burnt straw." CHAPTER XXIII. THE SILVER CLUE The silver matchbox was a peculiar one and quite out of the common run of such things. It had a spring lid deeply engraved with a hunting scene, in the centre of the medallion a pair of initials were ingeniously woven together in small stones. The Inspector asked Sir George if he could identify it as part of the family property. "Never saw it before," Dashwood said promptly. "I am certain that the thing does not belong to anybody in my house. What do you make the initials to be?" "'V.D.' or 'D.V.'", sir, the Inspector said. "That is perfectly plain. Now does anybody know a person who bears those initials? I should say that the matches are of foreign make, for they are flat, wooden ones, such as one rarely sees in this country. The first thing we have to do is to find out who is this 'V.D.' or 'D.V.' is. He seems to have dropped his matchbox into the fire. Probably, the blaze startled him by its suddenness. But I don't suppose we shall find much difficulty in proving who the owner is." Sir George shook his head: evidently the puzzle was utterly beyond him. Slight crossed over to one of the windows as if the whole subject had ceased to interest him. He made a sign to Ralph and the latter joined the old servant. He could see that Slight was suppressing a certain excitement. "What is the matter?" he asked. "Have you solved the problem?" "No, Mr. Ralph, I've only made it worse," Slight whispered. "I know quite well who that box belongs to, for I've seen it in his possession a score of times, to say nothing of the initials. Did you not meet a Mr. Vincent Dashwood at the dower house today?"