exists, Mr. Headland; so”—­here the faintest suggestion of a quiver got into her voice—­“if anything of a tragical nature had happened to him, and—­and the trinkets hadn’t disappeared with him, Mr. Van Nant could claim them all, and I should have not even one poor little token to cherish in memory of him.  And I am sure—­I am very sure—­that if he had known—­if he had thought—­”

“Mary, for goodness’ sake, don’t begin to snivel!” chimed in her father querulously.  “It gets on my nerves.  And you know very well how I am suffering!  Of course, it was most inconsiderate of Carboys not to destroy that will as soon as you and he were engaged; but he knew that marriage invalidates any will a man may have made previously, and—­well, you can’t suppose that he ever expected things to turn out as they have done.  Besides, Van Nant would have seen that you got something to treasure as a remembrance.  He’s a very decent chap, is Van Nant, Mr. Headland, although my daughter has never appeared to think so.  But there’s no arguing with a woman any way.”

Cleek glanced at Narkom.  It was a significant glance, and said as plainly as so many words:  “What do you think of it?  You said there was no motive, and, provided Carboys fell heir to something of which we know nothing as yet, here are two!  If that will was destroyed, one man would, as heir-at-law, inherit; ditto the other man if it was not destroyed and not invalidated by marriage.  And here’s the ‘one’ man singing the praises of the ‘other’ one!”

“Collusion?” queried Narkom’s answering look.  “Perhaps,” said Cleek’s in response, “one of these two men has made away with him.  The question is, which? and, also, why? when? where?” Then he turned to the Captain’s daughter, and asked quietly:  “Would you mind letting me see the room from which the young man disappeared?  I confess I haven’t the ghost of an idea regarding the case, Captain; but if you don’t mind letting your daughter show me the room—­”

“Mind?  Good Lord, no!” responded the Captain.  “All I want to know is, what became of the poor boy, and if there’s any likelihood of his ever coming back alive.  I’d go up with you myself, only you see how helpless I am.  Mary, take Mr. Headland to the room.  And please don’t stop any longer than is necessary.  I’m suffering agonies and not fit to be left alone.”

Miss Morrison promised to return as expeditiously as possible, and then forthwith led the way to the room in question.

“This is it, Mr. Headland,” she said as she opened the door and ushered Cleek in.  “Everything is just exactly as it was when George left it.  I couldn’t bring myself to touch a thing until after a detective had seen it.  Father said it was silly and sentimental of me to go on sleeping in a little box of a hall bedroom when I could be so much more comfortable if I returned to my own.  But—­I couldn’t!  I felt that I might possibly be unconsciously destroying something in the shape