gain.

She lifted a pallid face to him. Her violet eyes were misty, and tiny
drops of dew were still tangled in her lashes.

"You--you are good to me," she murmured.

At his answering look, a faint colour swept into her cheeks. She gently
disengaged herself and sat down.

Lady Dinsmore came forward, and seating herself beside the girl upon the
divan, drew her close within the shelter of her arms.

"Now, Frank," she said, cheerily, indicating a chair opposite, "sit
down, and let us take counsel together. And first of all,"--she pressed
the girl's cold hand--"let me speak my strongest conviction. Gregory is
not dead. Something tells me that he is safe and well."

Doris turned her eyes to the young man wistfully. "You have heard
something--later?" she asked.

He shook his head. "There has been no time for fresh developments yet.
Scotland Yard is in charge of the affair, and T. B. Smith has been put
upon the case."

She shuddered and covered her face with her hands.

"He said he was going to arrest him--how strange and ghastly it all is!"
she whispered. "I--I cannot get it out of my head. The dark river--my
poor uncle--I can see him there--" She broke off.

Lady Dinsmore looked helplessly across to the young man.

It was at that moment that a servant brought a letter.

Lady Dinsmore arched her eyebrows significantly. "Poltavo!" she
murmured.

Doris darted forward and took the letter from the salver. She broke the
seal and tore out the contents, and seemed to comprehend the message at
a glance. A little cry of joy escaped her. Her face, which had been
pale, flushed a rosy hue. She bent to read it again, her lips parted.
Her whole aspect breathed hope and assurance. She folded the note,
slipped it into her bosom, and, without a word, walked from the room.

Frank stared after her, white to the lips with rage and wounded love.

Lady Dinsmore rose briskly to her feet.

"Excuse me. Wait here!" she said, and rustled after her niece.

Frank Doughton paced up and down the room distractedly, momentarily
expecting her reappearance. Only a short half-hour ago, with Doris' head
upon his breast, he had felt supremely happy; now he was plunged into an
abyss of utter wretchedness. What were the contents of that brief note
which had affected her so powerfully? Why should she secrete it with
such care unless it conveyed a lover's assurance? His foot came into
contact with a chair, and he swore under his breath.

The ser