“Useless.  If we were to undertake to do that, Carlos would be here before half the job was finished.  Besides, Hetty must have told you my extreme aversion to nicely bound books.  I will not say that when awake I never place my hand on one, but once in a state of somnambulism, when every natural whim has full control, I am sure that I never would.  There is a reason for my prejudice.  I was not always rich.  I once was very poor.  It was when I was first married and long before Clement had begun to make his fortune.  I was so poor then that frequently I went hungry, and what was worse saw my little daughter cry for food.  And why?  Because my husband was a bibliomaniac.  He would spend on fine editions what would have kept the family comfortable.  It is hard to believe, isn’t it?  I have seen him bring home a Grolier when the larder was as empty as that box; and it made me hate books so, especially those of extra fine binding, that I have to tear the covers off before I can find courage to read them.”

O life! life! how fast Violet was learning it!

“I can understand your idea, Mrs. Quintard, but as everything else has failed, I should make a mistake not to examine these shelves.  It is just possible that we may be able to shorten the task very materially; that we may not have to call in help, even.  To what extent have they been approached, or the books handled, since you discovered the loss of the paper we are looking for?”

“Not at all.  Neither of us went near them.”  This from Hetty.

“Nor any one else?”

“No one else has been admitted to the room.  We locked both doors the moment we felt satisfied that the will had been left here.”

“That’s a relief.  Now I may be able to do something.  Hetty, you look like a very strong woman, and I, as you see, am very little.  Would you mind lifting me up to these shelves?  I want to look at them.  Not at the books, but at the shelves themselves.”

The wondering woman stooped and raised her to the level of the shelf she had pointed out.  Violet peered closely at it and then at the ones just beneath.

“Am I heavy?” she asked; “if not, let me see those on the other side of the door.”

Hetty carried her over.

Violet inspected each shelf as high as a woman of Mrs. Quintard’s stature could reach, and when on her feet again, knelt to inspect the ones below.

“No one has touched or drawn anything from these shelves in twenty-four hours,” she declared.  “The small accumulation of dust along their edges has not been disturbed at any point.  It was very different with the table-top.  That shows very plainly where you had moved things and where you had not.”

“Was that what you were looking for?  Well, I never!”

Violet paid no heed; she was thinking and thinking very deeply.

Hetty turned towards her mistress, then quickly back to Violet, whom she seized by the arm.