and the cautionary gesture
of the true conspirator, he went away in the demi-light.

Thessalie came from the bay window, where she had been with Westmore
and Garry, and she and Dulcie walked away toward the staircase hall,
leisurely followed by the two men who, however, turned again into the
western wing.

* * * * *

Dulcie was the first to reappear and descend the stairs of the north
wing--a willowy white shape in the early dusk, slim as a young spirit
in the lamplit silence.

Nobody else had come down; a maid was turning up a lamp here and
there; the plebeian family cat came out of the shadows from somewhere
and made advances as though divining that this quiet stranger was a
friend to cats.

So Dulcie stooped to pet her, then wandered on through the place and
finally into the music room, where she seated herself at the piano and
touched the keys softly in the semi-dusk.

Among the songs--words and music--which her mother had left in
manuscript, was one which she had learned recently,--"Blue Eyes"--and
she played the air now, seated there all alone in the subdued lamp
light.

Presently people began to appear from above--Mrs. Barres, who motioned
her not to rise, and who seated herself near, watching the girl's
slender fingers moving on the keys; then Lee, who came and stood
beside her, followed in a few moments by Thessalie and the two younger
men.

"What is that lovely little air you are playing?" inquired Mrs.
Barres.

"It is called 'Blue Eyes,'" said Dulcie, absently.

"I have never before heard it."

The girl looked up:

"No, my mother wrote it."

After a silence:

"It is really exquisite," said Mrs. Barres. "Are there words to it?"

Some people had come into the entrance hall beyond; there was the low
whirring of an automobile outside.

"Yes, my mother made some verses for it," replied Dulcie.

"Will you sing them for me after dinner?"

"Yes, I shall be happy to."

Mrs. Barres turned to welcome her new guests, now entering the music
room convoyed by Barres senior, who was arrayed in the dreaded "stiff
shirt" and already indulging in "table talk."

"They took," he was explaining, "a midge-fly with no hackle--Claire,
here are the Gerhardts and Mr. Skeel!" And while his wife welcomed
them and introductions were effected, he continued explaining the
construction of the midge to anybody who listened.

At the first mention of Murtagh Skeel's name, the glances