A day or two after I had witnessed what I must call Carriston’s second we were favored with a visit from the man whose services we had secured to trace Madeline. Since he had received his instructions we had heard nothing of his until he now called to report progress in person. Carriston had not expressed the slightest curiosity as to where the man was or what he was about. Probably he looked upon the employment of this private detective as nothing more useful than a salve to my conscience. That Madeline was only to be found through the power which he to hold of seeing her in his visions was, I felt certain, becoming a rooted belief of his. Whenever I expressed my surprise that our agent had brought or sent no information, Carriston his shoulders, and assured me that from the first he knew the man’s researches would be fruitless. However, the fellow had called at last, and, I hoped, had brought us good news.  
He was a glib-tongued man, who in a confident, matter-of-fact way. When he saw us he rubbed his hands as one who had brought affairs to a successful issue, and now meant to reap praise and other rewards. His whole bearing told me he had made an important discovery; so I begged him to be seated, and give us his news.
 
Carriston gave him a careless glance, and stood at some little distance from us. He looked as if he thought the communication scarcely worth the trouble of listening to. He might, indeed, from his looks, have been the most person of the three. He even left me to do the questioning.
 
“Now, then, Mr. Sharpe,” I said, “let us hear if you have earned your money.”
 
“I think so, sir,” replied Sharpe, looking at Carriston, who, strange to say, heard this answer with .
 
“I think I may say I have, sir,” continued the detective—“that is if the gentlemen can identify these articles as being the young lady’s property.”
 
Thereupon he produced from a thick letter-case a ribbon in which was stuck a silver pin, mounted with , an that I remembered having seen Madeline wear. Mr. Sharpe handed them to Carriston. He examined them, and I saw his cheeks flush and his eyes grow bright.
 
“How did you come by this?” he cried, pointing to the silver ornament.
 
“I’ll tell you presently, sir. Do you recognize it?”
 
“I gave it to Miss Rowan myself.”
 
“Then we are on the right track,” I cried, . “Go on, Mr. Sharpe.”
 
“Yes, gentlemen, we are certainly on the right track; but after all, it isn’t my fault if the track don’t lead exactly[256] where you wish. You see, when I heard of this mysterious of the lady, I began to my own theory. I said to myself, when a young and beautiful—”
 
“Confound your theories!” cried Carriston fiercely. “Go on with your tale.”
 
The man gave his interrupter a spiteful glance. “Well, sir,” he said, “as you gave me strict instructions to watch a certain gentleman closely, I obeyed those instructions, of course, although I knew I was on a fool’s errand.”
 
“Will you go on?” cried Carriston. “If you know where Miss Rowan is, say so; your money will be paid you the moment I find her.”
 
“I don’t say I exactly know where to find the lady, but I can soon know if you wish me to.”
 
“Tell your tale your own way, but as shortly as possible,” I said, seeing that my excitable friend was preparing for another outburst.
 
“I found there was nothing to be gained by keeping watch on the gentleman you mentioned, sir, so I went to Scotland and tried back from there. As soon as I worked on my own lay I found out all about it. The lady went from Callendar to Edinburgh, from Edinburgh to London, from London to Folkestone, and from Folkestone to Boulong.”
 
I glanced at Carriston. All his calmness seemed to have returned. He was leaning against the mantelpiece, and appeared quite unmoved by Mr. Sharpe’s clear statement as to the route Madeline had taken.
 
“Of course,” continued Mr. Sharpe, “I was not quite certain I was tracking the right person, although her description corresponded with the you[257] gave me. But as you are sure this article of belonged to the lady you want, the matter is beyond a doubt.”
 
“Of course,” I said, seeing that Carriston had no intention of speaking. “Where did you find it?”
 
“It was left behind, in a bedroom of one of the principal hotels in Folkestone. I did go over to Boulong, but after that I thought I had learned all you would care to know.”
 
There was something in the man’s manner which made me what was coming. Again I looked at Carriston. His lips were curved with contempt, but he still kept silence.
 
“Why not have pursued your past Boulong?” I asked.
 
“For this reason, sir. I had learned enough. The theory I had was the right one after all. The lady went to Edinburgh alone, right enough: but she didn’t leave Edinburgh alone, nor she didn’t leave London alone, nor she didn’t stay at Folkestone—where I found the pin—alone, nor she didn............