of the perplexity left his face when he finally put them back in the envelope.
He questioned the girl carefully, and had her repeat certain parts of her story. But nothing more could be learned from her; and at length he turned to the Major.
"I'll keep this envelope a while, if you'll let me. I don't see its significance at present, but I'd like to think it over."
When Major Benson and his secretary had gone, Vance rose and extended his legs.
"À la fin!" he murmured. "'All things journey: sun and moon, morning, noon, and afternoon, night and all her stars.' Videlicet: we begin to make progress."
"What the devil are you driving at?" The new complication of Pfyfe's peccadilloes had left Markham irritable.
"Int'restin' young woman, this Miss Hoffman—eh, what?" Vance rejoined irrelevantly. "Didn't care especially for the deceased Benson. And she fairly detests the aromatic Leander. He has prob'bly told her he was misunderstood by Mrs. Pfyfe, and invited her to dinner."
"Well, she's pretty enough," commented Markham indifferently. "Benson, too, may have made advances—which is why she disliked him."
"Oh, absolutely." Vance mused a moment. "Pretty—yes; but misleadin'. She's an ambitious gel, and capable, too—knows her business. She's no ball of fluff. She has a solid, honest streak in her—a bit of Teutonic blood, I'd say." He paused medi-
