iringly on the two
girls. There was complete silence. The three could hear each other
breathe. Then the newcomer spoke:

"Which of you two friends was it, may I ask, who sent me the letter?"
Her voice was sweet and low and soft, and as sad as her eyes. Joyce gave
a start and opened her lips to speak, but Cynthia was before her.

"_I did!_" she announced calmly. The lady turned to her.

"That was very lovely of you,--and very thoughtful. I began planning to
come soon after I received it, and tried to arrive at about the time you
mentioned. But I do not quite understand all--all this!" She glanced
toward the burning candles. "And I'm afraid I do not understand how
you--how you came to be in here!"

"Oh," began Cynthia, stumblingly, "I--I couldn't quite explain it all
in a letter--and I didn't even know you'd pay any attention to what I
wrote, anyway. But we'll tell you all about it right now, if you care
to hear." A light was beginning to dawn on the bewildered Joyce.
Suddenly she sprang forward and seized the lady's hand.

"Tell me--oh, please tell me," she cried, "_are_ you Mrs. Collingwood?"

"Yes, my dear!" said the lady.

And to the amazement of every one Joyce broke down and began to sob
hysterically, exclaiming, "Oh, I'm so glad--so glad!" between every
other sob.

"I think I'll sit down," said Mrs. Collingwood, when Joyce had regained
control of herself. "I'm very tired--and very, very--bewildered!" She
sat down on the sofa, and drew each of the girls down beside her.

"Now tell me," she said to Cynthia. "Explain it all, and then show me
what you think will interest me so. You see, I have traveled many weary
miles to hear this strange story."

So Cynthia began at the beginning and told how they had first found
their way in, and had then become interested in unraveling the mystery
of the old house. Mrs. Collingwood listened with deep attention; but
when Cynthia reached the tale of the hidden stairway, she started in
surprise.

"Why, I never dreamed there was such a thing in the house!" she
exclaimed. "The rooms were re-papered once, but I was away when it was
done. None of us knew!"

"No, we thought you didn't," continued Cynthia. "And so we went into the
locked-up room. And there we found something,--oh!--Mrs. Collingwood! We
felt sure you had never seen it, and that you _ought_ to! You see, we
knew all the rest of the--the story, from Joyce's great-aunt, Lucia
Kenway. And we felt you _ought_ to see