no fault of his own, however, to the detection of his master. The store of John Camden had been broken into and the safe blown open and robbed of a large sum of money. The cash had been received that day too late to be deposited in the bank. Next morning it was gone, and no trace of the thief was to be found. At least, Mr. Camden and his clerks and the police officials found no trace of him. Not so with me. I was sent to look up the affair. I found the office in a state of confusion. The door of the safe had been blown off and the contents lay scattered over the floor. I asked Mr. Camden if he had disturbed anything. He said he had not, except to satisfy himself that the money was gone. Near by was a cat, dead, her throat cut evidently by a hatchet that lay close at hand. This seemed to me to be the basis of a clue. Why had the cat been killed? It is not necessary to kill cats in order to prevent them from telling tales. I examined the unfortunate feline more carefully. In addition to the ugly cut on the throat there were other and more significant marks upon the back. A saucer, evidently having recently contained milk, stood near by. Also an overturned can from which pussy’s supply of milk had evidently been obtained. The contents of this had been consumed. Mr. Camden informed me that this can had been filled with milk only the previous evening. Among the papers scattered upon the floor was one that attracted my attention. It was a portion of a note written in French. I was aware that Mr. Camden did not write or speak French. I questioned him about it. He could give me no information. He had never seen it before. “Did any one know you had a large sum of money in the safe?” I asked. “Yes, a number of people knew of the fact. I had been expecting to receive the money for the past two weeks.” “Who are those who know you had it?” “My wife, brother, the man I sold the property to (that is how I came to have such a large sum at one time) and the real estate dealers through whom I sold it.” “Any one else?” “Oh, yes, a friend, my daughter’s music teacher. He it was who found me a purchaser for the property.” “He is a Frenchman, is he not, and is invariably accompanied by his pretty little dog?” “Why, yes; do you know him?” “No--never saw him. He knew you had a large sum of money in the safe?” “Yes; he saw me deposit it there.” “When did he give your daughter her last music lesson?” “Last evening, but he complained of being ill and went away earlier than usual.” “Did he have his dog with him?” “Yes; he claims the dog is his only friend.” “Have you a specimen of his handwriting at hand?” “Yes; I have several acknowledgments of money received.” He produced them. I compared the writing with that of the note I had found near the safe. They were, as far as I could determine, identically the work of the same person. Satisfied that I was on the right track, I caused a watch to be put upon the music teacher with the result that he was arrested as he was about to leave the city. He made a full confession. “How did you guess it was a Frenchman who...