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“I sincerely trust that is the correct solution of the mystery,” Mrs. Truxton looked dubious, “but there has been one fearful scandal in that family already, Eleanor, and I very much doubt if Senator Carew was killed by a servant.”

“Why, what do you mean?” Eleanor wheeled around in her chair and faced her abruptly.

“Time will show.” Mrs. Truxton shook her head mysteriously.

“Oh, nonsense!” exclaimed Eleanor impatiently.

As Mrs. Truxton opened her lips to reply, Annette reëntered the room.

“Pardon, madame, you are wanted at the telephone,” and as Mrs. Truxton lifted herself carefully out of her chair and walked out of the room, she handed a package to Eleanor. “This has just come for you, Mademoiselle; the boy who left it said there was no answer.”

“Annette! Annette!” came Mrs. Truxton’s shrill voice from the lower hall.

“Coming, Madame, coming,” and the maid hastened out of the room shutting the door behind her.

Left alone, Eleanor turned the sealed package over curiously. The address was written in an unknown hand. Quickly breaking the red sealing wax and tearing off the paper, she removed the pasteboard cover and a layer of cotton. A startled exclamation escaped her as she drew out the contents of the box—a necklace of large rubies and smaller diamonds in an antique setting.