She made her way down-town to the very outskirts of the business quarter of the city.
Pausing before a long row of offices in a dingy-looking building, she drew a card from her pocket and glanced at an address upon it. Her face lighted up with satisfaction.
"I believe I am right," she said, half aloud. "This is the place."
She entered a doorway and ascended a flight of bare stairs.
A little later she was standing in an office, in the presence of a pale, grave-looking, elderly man who was seated at a long table covered with papers.
Serena advanced and laid the box upon the table.
"You are Mr. Demorest, are you not?" she began, abruptly.
The man bowed and rose to offer her a seat. She checked him with a slight gesture.
"No thanks; I will not detain you. I have here the fragments of a letter supposed to be important, and which has been exposed to fire. I ask if you can decipher its contents. Please examine and let me know."
Ten minutes later he lifted his head from the small heap of smoke-scorched paper before him.