had been another Suzanne.

"You're nothing but a little girl, Suzie. You with your rhapsodies
over pink whipped cream! But it's sweet of you to go to such trouble
on a warm afternoon. See you and the whatever-you-call-'ems at
dinner!"

"They're tortonis, Eric, tortonis."

Suzanne ran lightly up the stairs. Eric followed more slowly. He
entered his room thinking that there were some things which must be
explained in this house with the old museum.

* * * * *

Twenty minutes before dinner Eric and John were on the terrace waiting
for Suzanne. John was talkative, which was just as well, as he might
have wondered at his brother's silence. Eric was torn between a desire
to tell his brother his reluctant suspicions concerning the Medici
boots and Suzanne and his inclination to leave things alone till the
boots could be destroyed.

He said, diffidently, "John, has Suzanne those--those boots?"

John chuckled. "Why, yes. I saw them in her room. Do you know she went
down to the museum last night and took those boots? It _was_ a light I
saw in the museum. It was her light. Suzanne has ideas. Wants to wear
the boots just once, she says, to lay the ghost of this
what's-her-name--Maria Modena. Suzanne says she couldn't sleep much
last night. Got up early and tried on those boots. Well, I think I'll
destroy 'em tomorrow. Uncle's wish, so I'll do it."

"Tried them on, did she? Well, if you should ask me, I'd say that
history of the boots was a bit too exciting for Suzanne. It _was_ a
haunting story. Uncle must have swallowed it, hook, line, and sinker,
eh?"

"Of course. His letter showed that. But Suzanne lives in the present,
not the past, as Uncle did. I suppose Suzanne will wear those boots,
or she won't feel satisfied. I don't exactly like the idea, I must
confess."

Something like an electric shock passed through Eric. He said,
somewhat breathlessly, "I don't think Suzanne ought to have the Medici
boots."

John looked at him curiously and laughed. "I never knew you were
superstitious, Eric. But do you really think----"

"I don't know what I think, John. But if she were my wife, I'd take
those boots away from her. Uncle may have known what he was talking
about."

"Well, I think she's intending to wear them at dinner, so prepare to
be dazzled. Here she is, now. Greetings, sweet-heart!"

Suzanne swept across the terrace, her gown goldly shimmering, pearls
bound about her head, as Eri