"
"I will pay that," Mr. Sabin answered.
"I will bring you the letters back to-night," Mr. Skinner said.
"I guess I'll borrow that locket of yours, too."
Mr. Sabin shook his head.
"That," he said firmly, "I do not part with." Mr. Skinner scratched
his ear with his penholder. "It's the only scrap of identifying
matter we've got," he remarked. "Of course it's a dead simple case,
and we can probably manage without it. But I guess it's as well to
fix the thing right down."
"If you will give me a piece of paper," Mr. Sabin said, "I will make
you a sketch of the Duchess. The larger the better. I can give you
an idea of the sort of clothes she would probably be wearing."
Mr. Skinner furnished him with a double sheet of paper, and Mr.
Sabin, with set face and unflinching figures, reproduced in a few
simple strokes a wonderful likeness of the woman he loved. He
pushed it away from him when he had finished without remark. Mr.
Skinner was loud in its praises.
"I guess you're an artist, sir, for sure," he remarked. "This'll
fix the thing. Shall I come to your hotel?"
"If you please," Mr. Sabin answered. "I shall be there for the rest
of the day."
Mr. Skinner took up his hat.
"Guess I'll take my dinner and get right to work," he remarked.
"Say, you come along, Mr. Sabin.
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