AS her voice ceased on the last solemn word Eleanor read and incredulity written on her listeners’ faces, and her heart sank. She bit her lips to hide their trembling.  
“How did you discover Senator Carew was dead, Miss Thornton?” asked the Secretary harshly. “It has been testified that the interior of the landau was dark and that the carriage lamps had been extinguished.”
 
“I did not see he was dead,”—Eleanor hesitated. “After opening the carriage door I to him several times. On getting no reply, I put out my hand and accidentally touched his chest, and my fingers encountered the round base of the letter file.” Her large eyes filled with horror at the recollection. “I did not, of course, know what it was then, but I realized that something was dreadfully wrong. The Senator’s silence, the touch of that cold metal in such a place terrified me. I drew back, closed the carriage door, and fled to my house. The next morning I heard of the murder from Annette.”
 
“Why did you not come forward with this information then?” asked Brett sternly.
 
“Because I was afraid.” Eleanor threw out her hands appealingly. “I had no one to verify my statements, and I feared I would be charged with the crime. Confident of my own , I did not think any information I might furnish would assist the arrest of the guilty person.”
 
“You should have spoken sooner,” said Colonel Thornton sharply. He tempered his by rising and leading Eleanor to his own comfortable chair, into which she sank wearily. “But the harm your silence has done can fortunately be remedied. Philip Winthrop,”—swinging around on the young man,—“your plea that you lacked the weapon used is ; you could easily have picked one up at the club; letter files are kept on most desks. Knowing where Senator Carew was to be on Monday night, you laid your plans carefully beforehand, and with devilish picked out an unusual weapon, so that it would be harder to trace the murder to you.”
 
“You lie!” Winthrop fiercely; then, addressing them all, “I had nothing whatever to do with the Senator’s death. She did it, though your misplaced sympathy blinds you to the truth.”
 
“Miss Thornton’s sex will not shield her,” declared the Secretary firmly, “if she be guilty—but, Mr. Winthrop, your story will also be investigated to the minutest detail. Until your innocence is proved without a shadow of a doubt you will consider yourself under arrest. Brett will see that the proper papers are made out.”
 
Winthrop . “I’m—I’m—in no condition to go to jail,” he . “It is !”
 
“Just a moment,” broke in Douglas. He had been deep in thought, and had paid but little attention to their conversation. “You say, Winthrop, that the letter file used to Senator Carew belonged to a desk set given to Miss Thornton by Miss Cynthia Carew.”
 
“I do,” exclaimed Winthrop .
 
Eleanor’s surprise was reflected in her uncle’s face. Was Douglas taking sides against her? Her eyes filled with tears, which she hastily away.
 
“Have you such a desk set, Eleanor?” demanded Douglas.
 
“Yes, Cynthia gave it to me last Christmas.”
 
 
“Is the letter file missing?”
 
The answer was slow in coming. “Yes,” she breathed faintly.
 
“Ah! What did I tell you?” cried Winthrop .
 
Douglas paid no attention to him, but continued to address Eleanor. “Where do you keep this desk set?”
 
“In the writing room across the hall from my drawing-room.”
 
“Describe your first floor, please, Eleanor.”
 
“The drawing-room is to the left of the front door; to the right is the small writing room, back of that the staircase, and back of the drawing-room is the dining room. The house is what is called three-quarters.”
 
“I see. Does the dining room communicate with the drawing-room?”
 
“Yes; there are old-fashioned sliding doors between the two rooms.”
 
“Do you use portières?”
 
“Yes, on all the doors.”
 
Douglas smiled at her encouragingly, then he turned to the four men. “Miss Thornton has testified that no one of her household knew that Senator Carew was with her Monday night. She is mistaken. There was one other person who knew that fact; who had ample opportunity to overhear her conversation with the Senator; to take the letter file from the desk in the writing room, and steal after him when he left, open the carriage door, and stab him.”
 
“Who was it?” questioned Eleanor breathlessly, while the others hung on his words.
 
“The servant who admitted him.”
 
“Fugi!” Thornton. “My God! I believe you’re right. But the , man?”
 
“An international .” Dou............