The first and last of these were Mercedes Pride and Mr. Lyttleton.
Between them entered a man unknown to Sally--a hard-featured citizen
in very ordinary business clothing, cold of eye, uncompromising of
manner.

Jubilation glowed in the witch's glance; anticipative relish of the
flavour of triumph lent her voice a shriller note. She struck an
attitude, singling out Sally with a denunciatory arm.

"There she is! That's the woman who calls herself Sara Manwaring. Now
arrest her--make her confess what she's done with those jewels--pack
her off to jail!"

CHAPTER XVI

THE PLANT

The very sharpness of the attack shocked Sally into such apparent calm
as she might not have been able even to simulate had she been given
more time to prepare herself.

After that first involuntary start of surprise and indignation she
stood quite still, but with a defiant chin well elevated and her
shoulders back, and if she had in her turn grown pale, it was less
with fright than with the contained exasperation that lighted the
fires in her eyes as they ranged from face to face of the four.

Lyttleton, she noticed, lingered uneasily near the door, hanging his
head, avoiding her glance, almost frankly shamefaced.

The spinster posed herself with arms akimbo and smirked superciliously
at the badgered girl, malicious spite agleam in her little black eyes.

Mrs. Standish had fallen back on the interruption and now half stood,
half rested against the dressing-table, her passion of a moment ago
sedulously dissembled. She arched an inquiring eyebrow and
smiled an inscrutable smile, questioning the proceedings without
altogether disapproving them.

Nearer Sally than any of these, the strange man confronted the girl
squarely, appraising her with an unprejudiced gaze.

"If you please--" she appealed directly to him.

"Miss Manwaring, I believe?" he responded with a slight,
semi-diffident nod.

Silently Sally inclined her head.

"That's the name she gave when she came here, at least," Mercedes
commented.

Sally addressed Lyttleton. "Please shut the door," she said quietly,
and as he obliged her, looked back to the stranger.

"Mason's my name, miss," he went on: "operative from Webb's Private
Investigation Agency, Boston. Mrs. Gosnold sent for me by
long-distance telephone this morning. I've been here all evening,
working up this case on the quiet. The understanding was that I wasn't
to take any steps without her permission; but s