marks on papers?"
Henriette, very proudly, replied:
"Yes, I cut them out and paste them on."
"Who taught you that little game?"
"Mademoiselle ... my governess ... I have seen her do it often. She takes words out of the newspapers and pastes them——"
"What does she make out of them?"
"Telegrams and letters that she sends away."
Herlock Sholmes returned to the study, greatly puzzled by the information and seeking to draw from it a logical deduction. There was a pile of newspapers on the mantel. He opened them and found that many words and, in some places, entire lines had been cut out. But, after reading a few of the word's which preceded or followed, he decided that the missing words had been cut out at random—probably by the child. It was possible that one of the newspapers had been cut by mademoiselle; but how could he assure himself that such was the case?
Mechanically, Sholmes turned over the school-books on the table; then others which were lying on the shelf of a bookcase. Suddenly he uttered a cry of joy. In a corner of the bookcase, under a pile of old exercise books, he found a child's alphabet-book, in which the letters were ornamented with pictures, and on one of the pages of that book he discovered a place where a word had been removed. He examined it. It was a list of the days of the week. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, etc. The word "Saturday" was missing. Now, the theft of the Jewish lamp had occurred on a Saturday night.
Sholmes experienced that slight fluttering of the heart which always announced to him, in the clearest manner, that he had discovered the road which leads to victory. That ray of truth, that feeling of certainty, never deceived him.
With nervous fingers he hastened to examine the balance of the book. Very soon he made another discovery. It was a page composed of capital letters, followed by a line of figures. Nine of those letters and three of those figures had been carefully cut out. Sholmes made a list of the missing letters and figures in his memorandum book, in alphabetical and numerical order, and obtained the following result:
CDEHNOPEZ—237.
"Well? at first sight, it is a rather formidable puzzle," he murmured, "but, by transposing the letters and using all of them, is it possible to form one, two or three complete words?"
Sholmes tried it, in vain.
Only one solution seemed possible; it constantly appeared before him, no matter which way he tried to juggle the letters, until, at length, he was satisfied it was the true solution, since it harmonized with the logic of the facts and the general circumstances of the case.
As that page of the book did not contain any duplicate letters it was probable, in fact quite certain, that the words he could form from those letters would be incomplete, and that the original words had been completed with letters taken from other pages. Under those conditions he obtained the following solution, errors and omissions excepted:
REPOND Z—CH—237.
The first word was quite clear: répondez [reply], a letter E is missing because it occurs twice in the word, and the book furnished only one letter of each kind.
As to the second incomplete word, no doubt it formed, with the aid of the number 237, an address to which the reply was to be sent. They appointed Saturday as the time, and requested a reply to be sent to the address CH. 237.
Or, perhaps, CH. 237 was an address for a letter to be sent to the "general delivery" of some postoffice, or, again, they might form a part of some incomplete word. Sholmes searched the book once more, but did not discover that any other letters had been removed. Therefore, until further orders, he decided to adhere to the foregoing interpretation.
Henriette returned and observed what he was doing.
"Amusing, isn't it?"
"Yes, very amusing," he replied. "But, have you any other papers?... Or, rather, words already cut out that I can paste?"
"Papers?... No.... And Mademoiselle wouldn't like it."
"Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, she has scolded me already."
"Why?"
"Because I have told you some things ... and she says that a person should never tell things about those they love."
"You are quite right."
Henriette was delighted to receive his approbation, in fact so highly pleased that she took from a little silk bag that was pinned to her dress some scraps of cloth, three buttons, two cubes of sugar and, lastly, a piece of paper which she handed to Sholmes.
"See, I give it to you just the same."
It was the number of a cab—8,279.
"Where did this number come from?"
"It fell out of her pocketbook."
"When?"
"Sunday, at mass, when she was taking out some sous for the collection."
"Exactly! And now I shall tell you how to keep from being scolded again. Do not tell Mademoiselle that you saw me."
Sholmes then went to Mon. d'Imblevalle and questioned him in regard to Mademoiselle. The baron replied, indignantly:
"Alice Demun! How can you imagine such a thing? It is utterly impossible!"
"How long has she been in your service?"
"Only a year, but there is no one in the house in whom I have greater confidence."
"Why have I not seen her yet?"
"She has been away for a few days."
"But she is here now."
"Yes; since her return she has been watching at the bedside of your friend. She has all the qualities of a nurse ... gentle ... thoughtful ... Monsieur Wilson seems much pleased...."
"Ah!" said Sholmes, who had completely neglected to inquire about his friend. After a moment's reflection he asked:
"Did she go out on Sunday morning?"
"The day after the theft?"
"Yes."
The baron called his wife and asked her. She replied:
"Mademoiselle went to the eleven o'clock mass with the children, as usual."
"But before that?"
"Before that? No.... Let me see!... I was so upset by the theft ... but I remember now that, on the evening before, she asked permission to go out on Sunday morning ... to see a cousin who was passing through Paris, I think. But, surely, you don't suspect her?"
"Of course not ... but I would like to see her."
He went to Wilson's room. A woman dressed in a gray
