rning of his mother's demise they had come to the house to direct
the obsequies.... Those Paris police were trying to solve the mystery
of what had become of Mrs. De Peyster's trunks.... If Mrs. De Peyster
could only see the beautiful floral tributes that were arriving,
particularly the large wreath sent by Mrs. Allistair--

But Mrs. De Peyster heard none of this. She was dead! She was to be
buried! She could never come home again!

At length her lips moved--slowly, stiffly, as might the lips of a dead
person.

"What are we going to do?"

"I've been saying that same question to myself for days, ma'am,"
quavered Matilda. "And I--I don't see any answer."

No, there was nothing she could do. Mrs. De Peyster continued her
glazed stare at her faithful serving-woman. In the first few minutes
her mind had been able to take in the significance only to herself of
this culminating disaster. But now its significance to another person
shivered through that her being.

Poor--poor Olivetta!

For Olivetta, of course, it was. Mrs. De Peyster knew what was due
the De Peyster corpuscles that moved in stately procession along the
avenues of her blood, and was not neglectful to see that that due was
properly observed; but the heart from which those corpuscles derived
their impulse was, as Judge Harvey had once said, in its way the
kindest sort of heart. And now, for a few minutes, all that her heart
could feel was felt for Olivetta.

But for a few minutes only. Then Olivetta, and all concerns beyond
the immediate moment, were suddenly forgotten. For in the hall without
soft footsteps were heard, and the instant after, upon her door, there
sounded an ominous scratching--a sound like a key in an agitated hand
searching for its appointed hole.

Mrs. De Peyster rose up and clutched Matilda's arm, and stood in rigid
terror.

"Tha--that key?" chattered Matilda. "Can--can it fit?"

"There were only two keys," breathed Mrs. De Peyster. "Mine here, and
the one I gave to Olivetta."

"Then it can't fit, since Miss Olivetta's--"

But the key gave Matilda the lie direct by slipping into the lock.
The two women clung to one another, knowing that the end had come,
wondering who was to be their exposer. The bolt clicked back, the door
swung open, and--

And into the dusky room there tottered a rather tall, heavily
veiled, feminine figure. It did not gaze at the shrinking couple in
astoundment. It did not launch into exclamation at its d