ception room, till the imperturbable secretary
was forced to complain that he was often left for hours without work.

But, as I say, days passed, and a second Monday evening came round
without seeing me any further advanced upon the problem I had set myself
to solve than when I first started upon it two weeks before. The subject
of the murder had not even been broached; nor was Hannah spoken of,
though I observed the papers were not allowed to languish an instant
upon the stoop; mistress and servants betraying equal interest in their
contents. All this was strange to me. It was as if you saw a group of
human beings eating, drinking, and sleeping upon the sides of a volcano
hot with a late eruption and trembling with the birth of a new one. I
longed to break this silence as we shiver glass: by shouting the name
of Eleanore through those gilded rooms and satin-draped vestibules. But
this Monday evening I was in a calmer mood. I was determined to expect
nothing from my visits to Mary Leavenworth's house; and entered it upon
the eve in question with an equanimity such as I had not experienced
since the first day I passed under its unhappy portals.

But when, upon nearing the reception room, I saw Mary pacing the floor
with the air of one who is restlessly awaiting something or somebody,
I took a sudden resolution, and, advancing towards her, said: "Do I see
you alone, Miss Leavenworth?"

She paused in her hurried action, blushed and bowed, but, contrary to
her usual custom, did not bid me enter.

"Will it be too great an intrusion on my part, if I venture to come in?"
I asked.

Her glance flashed uneasily to the clock, and she seemed about to excuse
herself, but suddenly yielded, and, drawing up a chair before the fire,
motioned me towards it. Though she endeavored to appear calm, I vaguely
felt I had chanced upon her in one of her most agitated moods, and that
I had only to broach the subject I had in mind to behold her haughtiness
disappear before me like melting snow. I also felt that I had but few
moments in which to do it. I accordingly plunged immediately into the
subject.

"Miss Leavenworth," said I, "in obtruding upon you to-night, I have a
purpose other than that of giving myself a pleasure. I have come to make
an appeal."

Instantly I saw that in some way I had started wrong. "An appeal to make
to me?" she asked, breathing coldness from every feature of her face.

"Yes," I went on, with passionate reckles