hairs once more. I rested my forearms upon
the back of one; but the instant the door closed on Stodger and Burke,
young Maillot sank with a groan into a chair by the table.

"The devil! I'm glad you got rid of that fellow," he muttered. "He
wears on one like the very deuce."

Now, during the last hour I had been sensible of a growing change in
this young man; of a gradually increasing nervousness and
apprehension,--as if I had all the time been pointing out little
details, which he had previously overlooked and which were forming
together, link by link, into a chain that would connect him with the
tragedy. Up to the present he had concealed his thoughts only with an
effort; but now his expression was become frankly worried and anxious;
and as I stood silently regarding him, his agitation measurably
increased. At last--

"For God's sake, Swift, don't look at me in that way!" came in a sudden
outburst from his tightened lips. "I know--I can see--now that I 've
had time to think it over--that the facts are damning. If I close my
lips and refuse to make any statement at all, it will be equivalent to
a confession. On the other hand--"

I waited, silent, motionless, without removing my eyes from his face.
Some moments elapsed before he went on, during which he was patently
exerting an effort at self-control.

"Swift," he at last continued, more calmly, "I 'm well aware what your
conclusions must be; the responsibility for that old man's death lies
between--between that secretary fellow and me; any fool can see that.
It's downright devilish to be one of two such alternatives; but if I
tell you what brought me here last night--Swift, I just simply can't
contemplate doing it!"

Again he paused.

"Take time, Maillot," I admonished, "but choose wisely."

He lifted his head with a little jerk.

"Give me a moment to think. I must decide, and decide irrevocably,
whether to become as dumb as a graven image, or else take you into my
confidence."

At this unfortuitous instant there came a loud rap upon the door, which
immediately opened to disclose the rotund form of Stodger, and behind
him two slight figures in furs and veils, bearing into this desolate
and gloomy old mansion a delicious flavor of young, dainty, pretty
femininity.

"Miss Belle Fluette and Miss Genevieve Cooper--to see Mr. Maillot,"
announced Stodger, with all the absurd importance of a conscientious
flunkey.

One, a tall girl in brown furs and