ny importance to things like that. My first husband had a
far-away look, and I haven't seen him for ten years. That Steinway
grand the professor's got, did he hire it or buy it? A man's got to
have money to support one of those instruments," went on Mrs.
Mangenborn.

"I don't know," replied Miss Husted, who could not help thinking that
her friend had a somewhat mercenary mind. "No one's been to see him,
so he hasn't got it for his friends; his violin has a beautiful sound.
Mr. Pinac tells me that it must be a rare old instrument."

The door-bell was heard ringing, but no one seemed to pay any attention
to it until they heard the whistle that followed; then everybody
bustled about. The postman always created a little excitement in
Houston Street, and his arrival was the one occasion on which even
Thurza hurried to the door. It was also the one occasion on which she
need not have done so, for she invariably found Miss Rusted or one of
the guests ahead of her.

"Registered letter for Herr Von Barwig."

"I'll take it to him," said Miss Husted sweetly.

"He's got to come and sign it himself," said the letter-carrier,
shaking his head.

"Where's it from?" asked Mrs. Mangenborn, her head appearing over the
bannisters.

Miss Husted looked at the letter-carrier inquiringly, but that official
appeared not to have heard the question. At all events, he made no
reply, and Miss Husted knocked on the professor's door.

"Come in."

Miss Husted opened the door.

"Ah, madam, what can I do for you?" said Von Barwig, rising from the
table at which he was writing.

Miss Husted smiled sweetly. She noticed that he was writing music, so
he must be a composer as well as a professor.

"Will you please come and sign for a registered letter?" she said.

"Ah, yes! I come at once."

He arose, held the door open for Miss Husted to pass out, bowing to her
as she did so, and then coming into the hallway, fulfilled the postal
requirements, totally unconscious that several pairs of eyes were
watching the operation. The letter-carrier handed him two letters; one
bearing the postmark Leipsic, the other that of New York.

Von Barwig returned to his room and read the following from a firm of
stock brokers:

"_Herr Anton Von Barwig_.

"DEAR SIR: Pursuant to your instructions, we have sold the balance of
the securities you left with us, but they have so depreciated in value
during your seven years' absence from Leipsic, that