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that group over your head." Reeves had it down in a minute.

"Yes, that's right: Campbell," he said. "Now, if one of us goes off in Binver and says he's found this photograph, and would Mr. Campbell be kind enough to let us know the address it was originally sent to, so that we can restore it, that ought to do the trick. Photographers are full of professional etiquette, but I don't see that we could go wrong here."

"I don't mind going," said Marryatt; "as a matter of fact, I've got to ride in to see a man on business."

"Heaven defend me," said Reeves, "from having business with anybody at Binver!"

"You will, though, with this man, some day."

"Why, who is it?"

"The undertaker," said Marryatt.

"Undertakers," said Carmichael, "have been very much maligned in literature. They are always represented as either cynical or morbid in the exercise of their profession. As a matter of fact, I am told that no class of men is more considerate or more tactful."

"I'll be back in three-quarters of an hour," said Marryatt, buttoning the photograph away. "Carmichael, I hope you won't produce any more clues while I'm away."

When Marryatt had gone, and Carmichael had sauntered off to the billiard-room, Reeves sat on