So far, while his suspicion had been strengthened, he had found nothing to confirm it.  He searched the room more carefully, and found, in the wood-box by the small heating-stove which stood in the room, a torn and crumpled bit of paper.  Stooping to pick this up, his eye caught a gleam of something yellow beneath the bureau, which lay directly in his line of vision.

First he smoothed out the paper.  It was apparently the lower half of a label, or part of the cover of a small box, torn diagonally from corner to corner.  From the business card at the bottom, which gave the name, of a firm of manufacturers of theatrical supplies in a Northern city, and from the letters remaining upon the upper and narrower half, the bit of paper had plainly formed part of the wrapper of a package of burnt cork.

Closing his fingers spasmodically over this damning piece of evidence, Mr. Delamere knelt painfully, and with the aid of his cane drew out from under the bureau the yellow object which, had attracted his attention.  It was a five-dollar gold piece of a date back toward the beginning of the century.

To make assurance doubly sure, Mr. Delamere summoned the cook from the kitchen in the back yard.  In answer to her master’s questions, Sally averred that Mr. Tom had got up very early, had knocked at her window,—­she slept in a room off the kitchen in the yard,—­and had told her that she need not bother about breakfast for him, as he had had a cold bite from the pantry; that he was going hunting and fishing, and would be gone all day.  According to Sally, Mr. Tom had come in about ten o’clock the night before.  He had forgotten his night-key, Sandy was out, and she had admitted him with her own key.  He had said that he was very tired and was going, immediately to bed.

Mr. Delamere seemed perplexed; the crime had been committed later in the evening than ten o’clock.  The cook cleared up the mystery.

“I reckon he must ‘a’ be’n dead ti’ed, suh, fer I went back ter his room fifteen er twenty minutes after he come in fer ter fin’ out w’at he wanted fer breakfus’; an’ I knock’ two or three times, rale ha’d, an’ Mistuh Tom didn’ wake up no mo’ d’n de dead.  He sho’ly had a good sleep, er he’d never ‘a’ got up so ea’ly.”

“Thank you, Sally,” said Mr. Delamere, when the woman had finished, “that will do.”

“Will you be home ter suppah, suh?” asked the cook.

“Yes.”

It was a matter of the supremest indifference to Mr. Delamere whether he should ever eat again, but he would not betray his feelings to a servant.  In a few minutes he was driving rapidly with Ellis toward the office of the Morning Chronicle.  Ellis could see that Mr. Delamere had discovered something of tragic import.  Neither spoke.  Ellis gave all his attention to the horses, and Mr. Delamere remained wrapped in his own sombre reflections.

When they reached the office, they were informed by Jerry that Major Carteret was engaged with General Belmont and Captain McBane.  Mr. Delamere knocked peremptorily at the door of the inner office, which was opened by Carteret in person.