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 "There's a note here she left for you, Mr. Bevans. Shall we open it?"

"No," shouted Austin so that the telephone reverberated. "I'll be over there in five minutes."

He was as good as his word. Five minutes later he was standing in the empty infirmary with Miss Curtis. Elise's little lace-edged nightgown and blue dressing-gown were lying on the bed; her pale-blue slippers were kicked off, one on one side of the room and one on the other.

Her note said: "Please don't be angry at me, but I could not bear it any longer. I shall be quite safe where I am going."

He was able to draw his breath again. That did not sound like suicide.

By ten o'clock, when Mr. Johns arrived upon the scene, everything had been done that might promise a clue. George had been snatched from the family breakfast-table and brought before Austin to testify to his innocence, which turned out to be spotless. Sally had been reduced to tears by a rapid though not hostilely intended cross-examination, and had revealed that she knew nothing. The ticket-agent at the nearest railroad station had testified that no one answering the description of Elise had bought a