possessed the secret? Was there some connection between them? I remembered the other famous case in which I had been engaged—must I look for the same solution here? Was there a blood relationship between Cecily and Miss Croydon? Clearly, such a thing was possible; I even fancied that one, knowing them both, might be able to detect a subtle resemblance. I closed my eyes and endeavoured to recall the features of Miss Croydon’s portrait; her face had much in common with Cecily’s. Both were dark, both were…
A knock at the door brought me out of my thoughts. I opened it and found the janitor standing there.
“It’s nothing very much, Higgins,” I said, “but I thought you’d better fix it before it got any worse. The carpet has come loose here along the door. Three or four tacks are all it needs.”
He stepped over the threshold and looked at it.
“All right, sir,” he said. “I’ll fix it in th’ mornin’. Them fellers what put th’ carpet down didn’t half do their work. I tacked a loose place down over there by th’ wall jest afore you moved in.”
“Where was it?” I asked as calmly as I could.
“Right here by this angle,” he said, indicating the place with his foot. “I think maybe I’d better go all around th’ walls t’-morrer.”
“Perhaps it would be best,” I said; “thank you,” and I closed the door upon him.
The next instant I was down on my hands and knees tearing away the carpet, my blood singing in my ears. I had found them—the clippings—it was here they must be hidden; but for those chance tacks
