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“Upon my word it’s a very pretty problem,” commented Douglas softly.

“It is,” agreed Brett, rising and slowly pacing the room. He glanced piercingly at Douglas, who was thoughtfully contemplating a life-size portrait of one of Carew’s ancestors which hung above the mantel over the fireplace. Douglas Hunter’s clear-cut features, broad forehead, and square jaw indicated cleverness and determination. When Douglas smiled the severe lines relaxed and his smooth-shaven face was almost boyish. He had a keen sense of the ridiculous, which prevented him from taking himself too seriously. In the past Brett had conceived a high regard for the other’s quick wit and indomitable courage.

“This is Senator Carew’s study or library,” he said, stopping before the desk, “and I was giving the room my special attention when you came in.”

“Have you met with any success?” inquired Douglas quickly.

“So far only one thing—it may be a clew or it may not; under this writing pad I found this blotter,” holding up a square white sheet; “it has been used only once, first on one side then on the other, so that by holding it in front of this mirror you can read quite clearly, see——”