pedias of the
scandal of three generations, and if the scion of some old New York
house had gone astray these gentlemen could furnish all the essential
data. But he had given his word and he had no intention of prying into
his friend's affairs. However, the sister might let fall some clue, and
as he dressed he tried to imagine just what sort of woman the Governor's
sister would prove to be.

"Julia is usually very prompt but she is motoring from Southampton and
we must allow her the usual margin," the Governor remarked when they met
in the drawing-room. Traces of the same nervousness he had manifested in
announcing that it was his sister who was coming to dine with them were
still visible.

The clock had struck the three-quarters when they heard the annunciator
tinkle followed by the opening of the front door. The Governor left the
room with a bound and Archie heard distinctly his hearty greetings and a
woman's subdued replies.

"I'm sorry to be late, but we had to change a tire. No, I'll leave my
wraps here."

"Won't you be more comfortable without your hat?"

"No, I'll keep it; thanks!"

The door framed for a moment a young woman who in her instant's pause on
the threshold seemed like a portrait figure suddenly come to life. She
was taller than the Governor and carried herself with a suggestion of
his authoritative bearing. Her face was a feminized version of the
Governor's, exquisitely modeled and illuminated by dark eyes that swept
Archie with a hasty inquiry from under the brim of a black picture hat.
She might have been younger or older than the Governor, but her maturity
was not an affair of years. She was a person of distinction, a woman to
challenge attention in any company. Archie was not sure whether she had
been warned of a stranger's presence in the house, but if she was
surprised to find him there she made no sign.

As Archie advanced to meet them he moved slowly, and unconsciously drew
himself up, as though preparing to meet a personage who compelled homage
and was not to be approached without a degree of ceremony. She was
entirely in black save for the roses in her hat. She might have retained
the hat, he thought, for the sake of its shadow on her face; or from a
sense that it emphasized the formal and transitory nature of her visit.

"Julia, this is my friend, Mr. Comly."

Her "very glad, I'm sure," was uttered with reservations, but she
smiled, a quick sad little smile.

The Governor had i