so far gone well. The world knows,
through the papers, that Lord Harry is dead. There will be now only the
business of claiming the money. For this purpose, as his widow is the
sole heiress and executrix, it will be necessary for her to place the
will and the policies of insurance in the hands of her husband's
lawyers, so that the will may be proved and the claims duly made. Forms
will have to be signed. The medical certificate of death and the forms
attesting the burial are already in the lawyers' hands. The sooner the
widow goes to London the better. She should write to announce her
arrival, and she should write from Paris as if she had been staying
there after her husband's death.

"I have only to remind you, my dear Linville, that you are indebted to
me in a good round sum. Of course, I shall be very pleased to receive a
cheque for this sum in full as soon as you have touched the amount due
to you. I shall be in Paris, at the Hotel Continental, where you may
address me. Naturally, there is no desire for concealment, and if the
Insurance Companies desire any information from me I am always ready
and willing to afford it."

Lord Harry gave this letter to his wife.

She read it, and laid it open in her lap.

"Must it be, Harry? Oh! must it be?"

"There is no other way possible, dear. But really, it is nothing. You
were not at Passy when your husband died. You had been in London--you
were in Brussels--anywhere; when you arrived it was all over; you have
seen his headstone. Dr. Vimpany had him in his care; you knew he was
ill, but you thought it was a trifling matter which time would cure;
you go to the lawyers and present the will. They have the policies, and
will do everything else; you will not even have to sign anything. The
only thing that you must do is to get a complete rig-out of widow's
weeds. Mind--there will not be the slightest doubt or question raised.
Considering everything, you will be more than justified in seeing no
one and going nowhere."

Hugh's letter breaking in upon her fool's paradise had awakened the
poor woman to her better self; she had gone so far with the fraud as to
acquiesce in it; but she recoiled with horror and shame when this
active part was forced upon her.

"Oh, Harry!"--she burst into tears. "I cannot--I cannot. You ask me to
be a liar and a thief--oh! heavens!--a vile thief!

"It is too late, Iris! We are all vile thieves. It is too late to begin
crying now."

"Harry"--sh