compact, a short delicate cigarette-holder of inlaid amber, a gold-cased lip-stick, a small embroidered French-linen handkerchief with "M. St.C." monogrammed in the corner, and a Yale latch-key.
"This ought to give us a good lead," said Markham, indicating the handkerchief. "I suppose you went over the articles carefully, Sergeant."
Heath nodded.
"Yes; and I imagine the bag belongs to the woman Benson was out with last night. The housekeeper told me he had an appointment and went out to dinner in his dress clothes. She didn't hear Benson when he came back, though. Anyway, we ought to be able to run down Miss 'M. St.C.' without much trouble."
Markham had taken up the cigarette-case again, and as he held it upside down a little shower of loose dried tobacco fell onto the table.
Heath stood up suddenly.
"Maybe those cigarettes came out of that case," he suggested. He picked up the intact butt and looked at it. "It's a lady's cigarette, all right. It looks as though it might have been smoked in a holder, too."
"I beg to differ with you, Sergeant," drawled Vance. "You'll forgive me, I'm sure. But there's a bit of lip rouge on the end of the cigarette. It's hard to see, on account of the gold tip."
Heath looked at Vance sharply; he was too much surprised to be resentful. After a closer inspection of the cigarette, he turned again to Vance.
"Perhaps you could also tell us from these tobacco
