tion was more than
one of refusal, it was that of repulse. "I can not see--I do not need
to--I am convinced."

"Pardon me, but that is not enough, Mrs. Ocumpaugh. I want you to be
certain. Let me read these words. The story they prefaced is unknown to
you; let it remain so; all I need to tell you about it is this: that it
was written by Mr. Ocumpaugh's father--he who raised this partition and
who is the undoubted author of these lines. Remember that they headed
the letter:

_"'Perish with the room whose ceiling oozes blood! If in time to come
any man reads these lines, he will know why I pulled down the encircling
wall built by my father, and why I raised a new one across this end of
the pavilion.'"_

Mrs. Ocumpaugh's eyes opened wide in horror.

"Blood!" she repeated. "A ceiling oozing blood!"

"An old superstition, Mrs. Ocumpaugh, quite unworthy your attention at
this moment. Do not let your mind dwell upon that portion of what I have
read, but on the word '_room_'. 'Perish with the room!' We know what
room was meant; there can be but one. I have myself seen the desk from
which these sheets were undoubtedly taken--and for them to be in the
hand of a certain person argues--" Mrs. Ocumpaugh's hand went up in
dissuasion, but I relentlessly finished--"that she has been in that
room! Are you more than convinced of this now? Are you sure?"

She did not need to make reply; eyes and attitude spoke for her. But it
was the look and attitude of despair, not hope. Evidently she had the
very greatest reason to fear Mrs. Carew, who possibly had her hard side
as well as her charming one.

To ease the situation, I spoke what was in both our minds.

"I see that you are sure. That makes my duty very plain, Mrs. Ocumpaugh.
My next visit must be upon Mrs. Carew."

The spirit which, from the beginning of this later interview, had
infused fresh strength into her feeble frame, seemed to forsake her at
this simple declaration; her whole form drooped, and the eyes, which had
rested on mine, turned in their old way to the river.

I took advantage of this circumstance.

"Some one who knows you well, who knows the child well, dropped the
wrong shoe into the river."

A murmur, nothing more, from Mrs. Ocumpaugh's set lips.

"Could it--I do not say that it was--I don't see any reason why it
should be--but could it have been Mrs. Carew?"

Not a sound this time, not a sound.

"She was down at the dock that night. Did you know it?"