m
I was talking out there--and I know you know it."

"Say I do, for the sake of the argument; do you imagine Mr.
Lyttleton would sacrifice himself--admit that he got up and left the
house, for whatever reason, last night after going to bed--to save
you?"

"No," Sally conceded; "I don't expect anything from either you or any
of your friends. But Mr. Lyttleton will find the facts hard to deny.
There was a witness, you must know--though I've no doubt it's news to
you. He wouldn't be likely to mention that to you. In fact, I can see
from your face he didn't. But there was."

"Who?" the woman stammered.

"That's for you to find out. Why not ask Mr. Lyttleton? It's no good,
Mrs. Standish. I don't understand your motive, and I'd rather not
guess at it; but I'm not a child to be scared by a bogy. Show your
forged letter to Mrs. Gosnold, if you like--or come with me and we'll
both show it to her--"

"Are you mad'? Do you want to be exposed?"

"I'm not afraid, Mrs. Standish--and you are!"

After an instant the woman's eyes clouded and fell. "I don't know what
you mean," she faltered.

"I mean that this scene has gone on long enough. I'm sick and tired of
it--and it isn't getting you anything, either. Good _night_!"

With this Sally marched to the door, turned the knob, and found it
locked and the key missing.

"The key, please, Mrs. Standish."

"Not till you tell me--" the other began with a flash of reviving
spirit.

Sally advanced a finger toward the push-button. "Must I call one of
the maids to let me out?"

Capitulation was signalled with a distracted gesture. "Miss Manwaring,
do tell me--"

"Nothing--I'll tell you nothing! Give me that key."

"Promise you haven't written--"

"The key!"

It was surrendered. "Well--but that jewel-case: what have you done
with it?"

"I've hidden it."

"Where?"

"I'll tell you to-morrow, perhaps."

Opening the door, Sally strode out with her head high and the light of
battle in her eyes.

A hesitant, pleading call followed her, but she wouldn't hear it.
Pursuit and continuation of the scene, with or without another
specious semblance of apology and reconciliation such as had
terminated their previous passage-at-arms, was out of the question;
the corridor was lively with young women in gayest plumage, fluttering
to and from the dressing-rooms, and Sally was among them even before
she remembered to reassume her mask.

At the head of the main staircase she paused,