It was the half of a link cuff-button of unique design, and I looked at

it carefully.

"Where was it? In the bottom of the hamper?" I asked.

"On the very top," she replied. "It's a mercy it didn't fall out on

the way."

When Liddy had gone I examined the fragment attentively. I had never

seen it before, and I was certain it was not Halsey's. It was of

Italian workmanship, and consisted of a mother-of-pearl foundation,

encrusted with tiny seed-pearls, strung on horsehair to hold them. In

the center was a small ruby. The trinket was odd enough, but not

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intrinsically of great value. Its interest for me lay in this: Liddy

had found it lying in the top of the hamper which had blocked the

east-wing stairs.

That afternoon the Armstrongs' housekeeper, a youngish good-looking

woman, applied for Mrs. Ralston's place, and I was glad enough to take

her. She looked as though she might be equal to a dozen of Liddy, with

her snapping black eyes and heavy jaw. Her name was Anne Watson, and I

dined that evening for the first time in three days.




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