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He was not one to carry a note-book, but he took an envelope from his pocket, and with a pencil began to write a list of names on the back. He was thus engaged when he heard a step behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the lean mysterious figure of Tarneverro.

The fortune-teller came forward and dropped into a chair at Chan’s side. He stared at the detective, and there was disapproval in that stare.

“Since you have asked me to work with you in this affair,” he began, “you will perhaps pardon me if I say I think you have been extremely careless.”

Charlie’s eyes opened wide. “Yes?” he said.

“I refer to Miss Fane’s letter,’ continued Tarneverro. “It may have been the answer to all our questions. In it the poor girl may have written the name we so eagerly seek. Yet you made no move to search the people in that room—you even pooh-poohed the idea when I offered it. Why?”

Chan shrugged. “You think, then, we have to deal with a fool? A miscreant who would take pretty complete pains to obtain the epistle, and then place it on his own person where a search would instantly reveal it? You are wrong, my friend. I had no taste for revealing how wrong you were, at the expense of further embarrassment for myself. No, the letter is hidden in that room, and sooner or later it will be found. If not—what of it? I have strong feeling that it contains nothing of the least importance.”

“On what do you base that feeling?” Tarneverro inquired.

“I have plenty as a base. Would Shelah Fane have written big secret down and then given it to servant