young man of our story suddenly disappeared and was never after heard from. The detective employed on the case assumed that if he could find the mysterious woman who registered at the hotel the day of the tragedy some light might be thrown upon the affair and the whereabouts of the absent young man ascertained."
"Have you any object in telling me this story?" asks the lady in black, in a voice which she strives to render calm and unconcerned.
"Only your entertainment."
"Then you have not succeeded."
"I have succeeded in one thing," returns Ashley, in quiet triumph. "I have found the woman."
"Indeed? That is more interesting. But perhaps you are mistaken."
"Impossible. The beautiful unknown left in the hotel room a lace handkerchief scented with a most peculiar perfume." Ashley is slowly unwrapping the lace creation about his finger, and he sniffs it as he speaks. "A perfume which the finder of the handkerchief had never known before," he goes on, as he spreads the lace upon his knee. "Besides the perfume, which distinguished this from thousands of other handkerchiefs, there was in one corner the letter 'I,' curiously embroidered in silk."
As if he were alone and talking to himself, Ashley takes from a wallet in his pocket the handkerchief which for months he had carefully treasured, and spreading it upon his knee compares it with the one which lately wrapped his finger. They are identical. Then he looks up and catches the half-scornful, half-startled gaze of the lady in black.
"Is that all?" she inquires.
"No. But I expect you to furnish the last chapter."
The lady in black again adjusts her mask. "Not to-night," she says. "Come to my hotel to-morrow and I will endeavor to gratify your curiosity."
"Whom shall I inquire for?"
"I believe you have my name."
"Ah, yes. And the hotel, madam?"
"The Kensington."
