een very good, Roger. I've appreciated
it, for you never believed in his innocence. Now you must believe, in
spite of yourself, since she is here, calling herself the Countess de
Mattos."

Roger stared at her in amazement. "But this is madness, dear," he said.
"Liane Devereux was murdered; whether Maxime Dalahaide or another was her
murderer, there is no possible doubt that she is dead. You can't know the
story as well as I thought you did, if you don't put that beyond
questioning."

"I tell you, Liane Devereux is in this house, and Providence sent me here
to see her. It's that which is beyond question."

"Did Madeleine Dalahaide show you the woman's picture?"

"Yes, two pictures; a photograph and an ivory miniature. She kept them
because they were her brother's, just as she kept everything of his. I
looked at them again and again, until I knew the features line by line. I
can't be mistaken. This is the same woman. There was an even deeper
mystery about that murder than Maxime Dalahaide's best friends guessed."

Roger Broom shrugged his shoulders with a despairing laugh. "For
light-hearted trampling on established facts, give me an American girl!"
he exclaimed. "A woman is murdered, her body found, identified, buried.
Four or five years afterward another woman appears, a brunette, while
Number One was blonde. Number One, a Frenchwoman, was murdered in Paris;
Number Two, a Portuguese, is spending the winter in Cairo. There is
absolutely nothing to link these women together except a resemblance of
feature, which, though strong, is not convincing even to a man who saw
Number One on the stage many times. Yet here comes a maiden from the
States, who was in the schoolroom in her own country when Number One was
murdered, and insists, because she has seen a portrait or two, that Liane
Devereux, the dead actress, and the Countess de Mattos are one and the
same."

"I know it sounds childish," admitted Virginia, with unwonted meekness;
"nevertheless, I'm absolutely sure. I'd stake my life on it, if it were
necessary."

"How do you proceed to explain the identification and burial of Liane
Devereux's body if she is now alive in Cairo?"

"I don't pretend to explain--yet. There was a mistake--that's all I can
say."

"Liane Devereux was too well known for that to be possible. Besides, if
there had been such a mistake, another woman, murdered and buried in her
place, must have been missing. As a matter of fact, no other woman