“That is really very kind of you, Professor,” she declared.

“I will send for my coat and we will go together, if you like,” he suggested.

She smiled.

“I am going the other way, back to Georgia Square,” she explained.  “No, please don’t ring.  I can find my own way out.”

She hurried from the room.  Outside in the hall she paused, for a moment, listening with beating heart.  By the side wall was a hat rack with branching pegs, from which several coats were hanging.  She slipped quietly behind their shelter.  Presently the Professor came out of the room.

“My coat, please, Craig,” she heard him say.

Her heart sank.  Craig was coming in her direction.  Her discovery seemed certain.  Then, as his hand was half stretched out to remove one of the garments, she heard the Professor’s voice.

“I think that I shall walk, Craig.  I have been so much upset to-day that the exercise will do me good.  I will have the light coat from my bedroom.”

For a moment the shock of relief was so great that she almost lost consciousness.  A moment or two later she heard the Professor leave the house.  Very cautiously she stole out from her hiding place.  The hall was empty.  She crossed it with noiseless footsteps, slipped into the study and moved stealthily to the fireplace.  There was a little heap of ashes in one distinct spot.  She gathered them up in her handkerchief and secreted it in her dress.  Then she moved hurriedly towards the door and stepped quietly behind the curtain.  She stood there listening intently.  Craig was doing something in the hall.  Even while she was hesitating, the door was opened.  He came in and moved towards his master’s table.  Through a chink in the curtain she could see that he was stooping down, collecting some letters.  She stole out, ran down the hall, opened the front door and hastened down the avenue.  Her heart was beating quickly.  The front door handle had slipped from her fingers, and it seemed to her that she could hear even now the slam with which it had swung to.  At the gates she looked back.  There were no signs of life.  The house still bore its customary appearance, gloomy and deserted.  With a sigh of relief, she hailed a taxicab and sank back into the corner.

She found Laura waiting for her, and a few minutes afterwards the two girls were examining the ashes with the aid of Quest’s microscope.  Among the little pile was one fragment at the sight of which they both exclaimed.  It was distinctly a shred of charred muslin embroidery.  Lenora pointed towards it triumphantly.

“Isn’t that evidence?” she demanded.  “Let’s ring up Inspector French!”

Laura shook her head doubtfully.

“Not so fast,” she advised.  “French is a good sort in his way, but he’s prejudiced just now against the boss.  I’m not sure that this evidence would go far by itself.”

“It’s evidence enough for us to go for Craig, though!  What we have got to do is to get a confession out of him, somehow!”