"Nothing to help us to-day. No letters—no cards. Some clothing—some little trifles (bought in Paris, by the way) and one little book."
"A name in it?"
"Yes—Angeline; and one line of writing from some poem, I judge. I put it back where I found it. When we know more, it may help us to find her friends."
"And is that all?"
"Almost, but not quite. The young girl had a bag too. It stood on a table——"
"Well?"
"Empty. Everything had been tumbled out—turned upside down and the contents scattered. I looked them carefully over. Nothing, positively nothing, but what you would be likely to find in any young girl's traveling-bag. There's but one conclusion to be drawn."
"And what is that?"
"That all these things, such as they were, had been pushed hastily about after being emptied out on the table. That was not the young girl's work."
"Madame Duclos'!"