Paul laughed lightly. "I don't have to fight for my rights any more."
"Indeed! What are you grinning about? Have you found who that girl is?"
"I have."
"What?" Burns's jaw dropped limply; he leaned forward in his chair.
"Yes, sir! I've identified her."
The fat man was at first incredulous, then suspicious. "Don't try any tricks on me," he cried, warningly. "Don't try to put anything over—"
"Her name is Mabel Wilkes. She is the daughter of Captain Wilkes, of Highland, Ontario. She was a country dressmaker and lived with her people at that place. Her trunk is down at the Grand Trunk depot with the rest of her clothes in it, together with the mate to the mitten she had when she killed herself. I went through the trunk with the baggage-master, name Corrigan. Here's the key which I got from her purse at the coroner's office."
Burns fixed his round eyes upon the key, then he shifted them slowly to Anderson's face. "Why—why—this is amazing! I—I—" He cleared his throat nervously. "How did you discover all this? Who told you?"
"Nobody told me. I reasoned it out."
"But how—Good Lord! Am I dreaming?"