She shook her head.  “Never went out and never had any visitors.”

I own I was nonplussed, “Well,” said I, “no more of this at present.  I must first find out if she left this house alone or in company with others.”  And without further parley I stepped out upon the roof of the extension.

As I did so I debated with myself whether the case warranted me or not in sending for Mr. Gryce.  As yet there was nothing to show that the girl had come to any harm.  A mere elopement with or without a lover to help her, was not such a serious matter that the whole police force need be stirred up on the subject; and if the woman had money, as she said, ready to give the man who should discover the whereabouts of this girl, why need that money be divided up any more than was necessary.  Yet Gryce was not one to be dallied with.  He had said, send for him if the affair seemed to call for his judgment, and somehow the affair did promise to be a trifle complicated.  I was yet undetermined when I reached the edge of the roof.

It was a dizzy descent, but once made, escape from the yard beneath would be easy.  A man could take that road without difficulty; but a woman!  Baffled at the idea I turned thoughtfully back, when I beheld something on the roof before me that caused me to pause and ask myself if this was going to turn out to be a tragedy after all.  It was a drop of congealed blood.  Further on towards the window was another, and yes, further still, another and another.  I even found one upon the very window ledge itself.  Bounding into the room, I searched the carpet for further traces.  It was the worst one in the world to find anything upon of the nature of which I was seeking, being a confused pattern of mingled drab and red, and in my difficulty I had to stoop very low.

“What are you looking for?” cried Mrs. Daniels.

I pointed to the drop on the window sill.  “Do you see that?” I asked.

She uttered an exclamation and bent nearer.  “Blood!” cried she, and stood staring, with rapidly paling cheeks and trembling form.  “They have killed her and he will never—­”

As she did not finish I looked up.

“Do you think it was her blood?” she whispered in a horrified tone.

“There is every reason to believe so,” rejoined I, pointing to a spot where I had at last discovered not only one crimson drop but many, scattered over the scarcely redder roses under my feet.

“Ah, it is worse than I thought,” murmured she.  “What are you going to do?  What can we do?

“I am going to send for another detective,” returned I; and stepping to the window I telegraphed at once to the man Harris to go for Mr. Gryce.

“The one we saw at the Station?”

I bowed assent.

Her face lost something of its drawn expression.  “O I am glad; he will do something.”