s. Morley not only laughed again, but
clapped her gloved hands.

"Dead!" she said quite gleefully. "Ah! he was lucky to the last."

Ware thought that the widow must be off her head to talk like this; but
Mrs. Morley was perfectly sane, and her exclamation was perfectly
natural, as he soon learned. She enlightened him in her next speech.

"Don't you call a man lucky," she said quietly, "who died like my
husband in the clean waves of the sea, instead of being hanged as he
deserved?"

"What do you mean?" asked the startled Giles.

"Can't you guess?" She drew a paper out of her pocket. "I came here to
give you that, Mr. Ware. The confession of my wicked husband."

"Confession?"

"Yes. You will find it particularly interesting, Mr. Ware. It was my
miserable husband who murdered Daisy."

"Never!" gasped Giles, rising aghast. "He was in the library all the
time. You told----"

"I know what I told," she answered quickly. "I did so to save my name
from shame; for the sake of my children I lied. Oliver did not deserve
the mercy I showed him. Base to the last he deserted me. Now he is dead.
I am glad to hear it." She paused and laughed. "I shall not change my
dress, Mr. Ware."

"Don't, Mrs. Morley," he said, with a shudder.

"Not that name, if you please," she said, and noting her card on the
desk she tore it in two. Then opening her case she tore the other cards
and scattered them on the floor. "Mrs. Morley is no more. I am Mrs.
Warton. That is the name of my first husband--my true husband--the
father of my three children. Yes, Mr. Ware, I have sold my furniture,
and let The Elms. To-morrow I leave for the south of France with my
children. I land in France as Mrs. Warton, and the old life is gone for
ever. Can you blame me?"

"From what I know of Morley I cannot," he stammered. "But what do you
know, Mrs. Mor--I mean Mrs. Warton?"

"I know everything. Listen, Mr. Ware. When Oliver married me I was in
love with him. I thought he loved me for myself. But it was my money he
was after. Some time after our marriage I found that he was a gambler.
He lost all my money at cards. Fortunately there was a sum of a thousand
a year settled on me which he could not touch, nor was he able to touch
the money left to my children. All the rest (and there was a great deal)
he wheedled out of me and spent."

"I wonder you did not put an end to him long ago. I mean I should have
thought you would separate from the scoundrel."

Mrs