women frozen to death in the Tramp House!' Arthur repeated. 'Then I
did hear a cry. Oh, Frank, who is she? Where did she come from?'

'We do not know who she is, or where she came from!' Frank replied, 'Mr.
St. Claire thinks she is French. There is nothing about her person to
identify her, but I would like you to see her, and--and--'

'I see her! Why should I see her, and shock my nerves more than they are
already shocked?' Arthur said, with a decided shake of his head.

'But you must see her,' Frank continued. 'Perhaps you know her. She came
last night. She--'

Before he could utter another word Arthur was at his side, Frank seizing
him by the shoulder with the grip of a giant, demanded, fiercely:

'What do you mean by her coming last night? How did she come? Not by
train, for John was there. Frank, there is something you are keeping
back. I know it by your face. Tell me the truth. Is it Gretchen dead in
this house?'

'No,' Frank answered huskily. 'It is not Gretchen, if that picture is
like her, for this woman is very dark and old, and, besides that, has
Gretchen a child?'

For an instant Arthur stood staring at him, or rather at the space
beyond him, as if trying to recall something too distant or too shadowy
to assume any tangible form; then bursting into a laugh he said:

'Gretchen a child! That is the best joke I have heard. How should
Gretchen have a child? She is little more than one herself, or was when
I saw her last. No, Gretchen has no child. Why do you ask?'

'Because,' Frank replied, 'there was a little girl found in the Tramp
House with this woman, a girl three or four years old, I judge. She is
at the cottage now, where Harold carried her. He found the woman this
morning. Will you see her now?'

Arthur answered 'no,' decidedly, and then Frank, who knew that he should
never again know peace of mind if his brother did not see her, summoned
all his courage and said:

'Arthur, you must. I have not told you all. This woman did come by train
from New York.'

'Then why did not John see her?' interrupted Arthur.

'He was not there,' Frank replied. 'Forgive me, Arthur, I did not send
him as you thought. It was so cold and stormy, and I had no faith in
your presentiments, and so--so--'

'And so you lied to me, and I will never trust you again as long as I
live, and if this had been Gretchen, I would kill you, where I stand!'
Arthur hissed in a whisper, more terrible to hear than louder tones
woul