"She may have been helped through the window by the man," he said, finally, "but it is not probable. We have no proof that the woman was in the study when the footsteps were heard, for the screams had stopped; and we have unquestionable proof that this tight-fitting door was opened after the papers had been fired, if, as you told me, when Miss Pierce and the others reached the museum they found it filled with smoke. Now, Dr. Pierce," he looked up sharply, "when you first spoke to me of the loss of these papers, you said they had been 'burned or vanished.' Why did you say vanished? Had you any reason for supposing they had not been burned?"
"No real reason," Pierce answered after a moment's hesitation. "The papers, which I had divided by subjects into tentative chapters, were put together with wire clips, each chapter separately, and I found no wire clips among the ashes. But it was likely the papers would not burn readily without taking the clips off. After taking off the clips, she—they," he corrected himself—"may very well have carried them away. It is too improbable to believe that they brought with them other papers, with the plan of burning them and giving the appearance of having destroyed the real ones."
"That would certainly be too improbable a supposition," Trant agreed, and again became deeply thoughtful.
"A remarkable, a startlingly interesting case!" he raised his eyes to his client's, but hardly as though speaking to him. "It presents a problem with which
