He took an envelope from his breast, and drew from it a ruddy strand of long hair, holding it up to the light of the window, where it shone with a rich copper tint.
"My God!" groaned Edmund Clarke.
"You recognize the hair?" cried Doctor Jay.
"It is Roma's hair!" was the anguished answer.
"I thought so!"
"You thought so! Is the girl, then, a lunatic, or a fiend? And what motive could she have to take your life—an old man, who has never harmed her in his blameless life?" cried the host, in consternation.
Edmund Clarke had never been confronted with such a terrible problem of crime in his life. His face paled to an ashen hue, and his eyes almost glared as he stared helplessly at his friend.
"I have a theory!" cried Doctor Jay.
"What is it?"
"The girl must have overheard our conversation last night."