She bustled off into the kitchen in search of the old housekeeper.
"If Marta didn't get it," mused Kathrien, her face strained with puzzling thoughts, "who did have this picture? And why weren't the rest of us told? Every one knew how eager we were for news of Anne Marie. And who tore up the picture? Did you, Willem?"
"No!" declared the boy. "It was lying here, torn. I mended it."
"But," persisted Kathrien, "there's been no one at this desk,—except Frederik.—Except Frederik," she repeated, half under her breath.
Mrs. Batholommey came back from her kitchen interview, bubbling with importance.
"No," she announced, "Marta hasn't heard a word from Anne Marie. And only a few minutes ago she asked Frederik if any message had come. And he said, no, there hadn't."
"I wonder," suggested Kathrien, "if there was any message with the photograph."
"I remember," volunteered Mrs. Batholommey, "one of the letters that came for poor old Mr. Grimm was in a blue envelope and felt as if it had a photograph in it. I put it with some others in the desk and I told Frederik about it this evening."
Kathrien glanced over the desk and at the floor around it in search of further clues. She saw, in the jardinière, the charred remnants of a letter and pointed it out to the others. She drew from the débris the unburned corner of a blue envelope.
"That's the one!" cried Mrs. Batholommey. "That's it! The same colour."