This was an eminently satisfactory solution, and it served the inspector right for locking up her friend.

Then, with the suddenness of a bomb from a Zeppelin, came, at the end, her strawberry man's confession of guilt.

He was the murderer, after all! He admitted it! She could scarcely believe her eyes.
Yet there it was, in ink as violet as those eyes, on the note paper that had become so familiar to her during the thrilling week just past.

She read it a second time, and yet a third.

Her amazement gave way to anger; her cheeks flamed.