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 drawer? If you’ve lost a paper, hunt for it—do. But quit poking aimlessly about among the old documents.”

Again Barham slammed the drawer shut.

“There’s no reason why that girl could possibly have killed Madeleine, unless it was jealousy. Now, I hold she couldn’t have been jealous of my wife, for my wife had no knowledge of those people at all—she had no acquaintance down there.”

“To your knowledge.”

“To my knowledge, or outside it. I didn’t live with Madeleine all those years without knowing her whole mind—and she would never have chummed with those people—never!”

“Maybe she went down there with some of our own crowd—curiosity, you know. Maybe we can find out who went with her. Have you tried?”

“I’ve asked a few of the women—but they won’t tell—if they know, which I doubt.”

“Claudine would know.”

“I’ve asked her, but she gave me no real information.”

“Get her down here—now. I’ve a ghost of an idea that she knows more than she has told.”

The maid was sent for, and appeared, looking a little scared.

“Don’t be frightened, Claudine,” Barham said, kindly. He couldn’t bear to see any woman troubled.

“Just a few questions, Claudine,” Nelson began. “Tell us, briefly, all you know of Madame’s going to the masked ball.”

“I know almost nothing. She had her costume made—perhaps a week beforehand—not more.”

“It was done hastily, then?”

“Yes, Madame usually gave more time than that to her modiste.”