He saw Dick Linforth in the hall, and before he spoke he looked upwards to the gallery which ran round it.

Even when he had assured himself that there was no one listening, he spoke in a low voice.
"Do you see this, Linforth ?" He held out the bundle.

There was a thick cloth, a sort of pad of cotton, and some thin strong cords.
"These were found in Mrs.Oliver's room." He laid the things upon the table and Linforth turned them over, startled as Ralston had been.
"I don't understand," he said.
"They were left behind," said Ralston.
"By the thief ?" "If he was a thief"; and again Linforth said: "I don't understand." But there was now more of anger, more of horror in his voice, than surprise; and as he spoke he took up the pad of cotton wool.
"You do understand," said Ralston, quietly.
Linforth's fingers worked.

That pad of cotton seemed to him more sinister than even the cords.
"For her!" he cried, in a quiet but dangerous voice.

"For Violet," and at that moment neither noticed his utterance of her Christian name.