were gathering dust. "Nor you, either," he went on. "Now for a last
glimpse--"

He opened the book and read:

"And now I shall tell you that the fishing with a natural fly is
excellent and affords much pleasure."

"It won't do!" ejaculated the colonel as he closed the book and threw
it aside.

One matter puzzled the colonel as well as the other detectives. There
was no sign of the jewelry store having been entered from the outside,
so that if a stranger had come in he must have done so when the doors
were unlocked or made a false key, or else he had forced a passage so
skilfully as to leave not a sign.

Of course this was possible, and it added to the inference of some that
a burglar, used to such work, had entered the place, and, being
detected at work by Mrs. Darcy, had killed her.

However, there was not so much as a cuff button missing, as far as
could be learned after the contents of the store had been checked up,
though of course an intruder might have been frightened off before he
had taken anything.

Many of Darcy's friends could not help but admit that appearances were
against him. He and his cousin had quarreled, somewhat bitterly, over
money, and about his refusal to give up work on his electric lathe.
There was also King's testimony about words over Amy, though Darcy
contended that this talk was nothing more than his relative had
indulged in before regarding the unsuitableness of the match. Darcy
admitted resenting his cousin's imputation.

All this Colonel Ashley had taken into consideration before he sent the
telegram. And, having done that, and having had a talk with Darcy at
the jail, as well as a consultation with the lawyer, having visited
Harry King and seen Singa Phut, the detective paid another visit to the
jewelry shop.

"And what can I do for you to-day, Colonel?" asked Mr. Kettridge, who,
by this time, had the business running smoothly again. "Have you
gotten any further into the mystery?"

"Not as far as I would like to get. I'm going to browse about here a
bit, if you have no objection."

"Not at all. Make yourself at home."

"I will. First, I'd like to see that statue--the one of the hunter,
with which it is supposed Mrs. Darcy was struck."

"Oh, that is at the prosecutor's office--that and Harry King's
unfortunate paper knife."

"So they are. I had forgotten. Well, I'll look about a bit then.
Don't pay any attention to me. I'll go and come as I please."

And so he went, seemingly rather idly about the jewelry store, looking
and listening.

It was not until the third day of his surveillance, during which
passage of time he had waited anxiously for a message from New York
without getting it, that the colonel felt his patience was about to be
rewarded. The detective was a fisherman in more ways than one.

Trade had been rather brisk in the shop--possibly because of gruesome
curiosity--when, one afternoon, a man entered who seemed to know
several in the place. Yet he did not talk with them, beyond a mere
passing of the time of day, but went about nervously from showcase to
counter and repeated the journey. When Mr. Kettridge asked him at what
he desired to look he replied there was nothing in particular--that he
had in mind a gift, but, as yet, had decided on nothing.

"Look about as you please," was the courteous invitation he received,
and the man availed himself of it.

Of medium build, yet with the appearance of having lived more in the
open than does the average man, his face had, yet, a strange pallor not
in keeping with his robust frame. And his manner was certainly nervous.

"Now what," mused the colonel to himself, "is _he_ fishing for?"

That day there was more than the usual number of people in the
store--many of them undoubtedly curiosity seekers, who came into price
certain articles ostensibly, but who, really, wanted to stare at the
place where the bloodstains had been scrubbed away.

And at this spot the robust man stared longer than did some of the
others, the colonel thought. Did he hope that some spirit of the poor,
murdered woman might still be lingering there, to whisper to him what
he sought to learn?

"Who is that man?" asked Colonel Ashley of Mr. Kettridge, who had often
come to the shop during the holiday seasons to help Mrs. Darcy.

"Oh, that's Mr. Grafton."

"Mr. Grafton? Who is he?"



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