“I have nothing to say.  I am glad to leave that particular line of investigation to you, and more than glad if it has proved or is likely to prove fruitful.  Have you heard——­”

“Read that.”

He tossed a letter within the detective’s grasp and leaned back while Gryce laboriously perused it.

It was illy written, but well worth the pains he gave to it—­as witness: 

  To the Chief of Police:

Dear Sir:—­I am told that there is a reward out for a certain woman by the name of Duclos.  I do not know any such person, but there is a woman who has been lodging in my house for the last two weeks who has acted so strangely at odd times that I have become very suspicious of her, and think it right for you to know what she did here one night.

It’s about a fortnight since she came to my house in search of lodgings.  Had she been young, I would not have opened my doors to her, decent as she was in her dress and ways; for she was a foreign woman and I don’t like foreigners.  But being middle-aged and ready with her money in advance, I not only allowed her to come in but gave her my very best room.  This is not saying much, because the elevated road runs by my door, darkening my whole front, besides making an awful clatter.  But she did not seem to mind this, and I took little notice of her, till one of the other lodgers—­a woman with a busy tongue—­began to ask why this strange woman, who was so very dark and plain, went out only at night?  Did she sew or write for a living?  If not, what did she do with herself all day?

As the last was a question I could easily answer, I said that she spent most of her time in reading the newspapers; and this was true, because she always came in with her arms full of them.  But there I stopped, as I never discuss my lodgers.  Yet I must acknowledge that my curiosity had been roused by all this talk, and I began to watch the woman, who I soon saw was in what I would call a flustered state of mind, and as unhappy as anyone could be who hadn’t suffered some great bereavement.  But still I wasn’t really alarmed, being misled by the name she gave, which was Clery.

Night before last I went to bed early.  I am a heavy sleeper, as I need to be with those cars pounding by the house every few minutes.  But there are certain noises which wake me, and I found myself all of a sudden sitting up in bed and listening with all my ears.  Everything was quiet, even on the elevated road; but when the next train came thundering along, I heard, piercing shrilly through the rumble and roar, that same sharp ping which had wakened me.  What was it?  It seemed to come from somewhere in the house.  But how could that be!  I was startled enough, however, to get up and slip on some of my clothes and stand with ears astretch for the next train.

It came and passed, and right in the middle