he
had stood up for the memory of Olivia's mother when others had seemed to
forget what was due to it. To her niece she had been a second mother,
and had never been lacking in affection.

More than one motive, however, lent wings to Mrs. Carteret's feet. Her
aunt's incomplete disclosures on the day of the drive past the hospital
had been weighing upon Mrs. Carteret's mind, and she had intended to
make another effort this very day, to get an answer to her question
about the papers which the woman had claimed were in existence. Suppose
her aunt had really found such papers,--papers which would seem to prove
the preposterous claim made by her father's mulatto mistress? Suppose
that, with the fatuity which generally leads human beings to keep
compromising documents, her aunt had preserved these papers? If they
should be found there in the house, there might be a scandal, if nothing
worse, and this was to be avoided at all hazards.

Guided by some fortunate instinct, Dinah had as yet informed no one but
Mrs. Carteret of her discovery. If they could reach the house before the
murder became known to any third person, she might be the first to
secure access to the remaining contents of the cedar chest, which would
be likely to be held as evidence in case the officers of the law
forestalled her own arrival.

They found the house wrapped in the silence of death. Mrs. Carteret
entered the chamber of the dead woman. Upon the floor, where it had
fallen, lay the body in a pool of blood, the strongly marked countenance
scarcely more grim in the rigidity of death than it had been in life. A
gaping wound in the head accounted easily for the death. The cedar chest
stood open, its strong fastenings having been broken by a steel bar
which still lay beside it. Near it were scattered pieces of old lace,
antiquated jewelry, tarnished silverware,--the various mute souvenirs of
the joys and sorrows of a long and active life.

Kneeling by the open chest, Mrs. Carteret glanced hurriedly through its
contents. There were no papers there except a few old deeds and letters.
She had risen with a sigh of relief, when she perceived the end of a
paper projecting from beneath the edge of a rug which had been
carelessly rumpled, probably by the burglar in his hasty search for
plunder. This paper, or sealed envelope as it proved to be, which
evidently contained some inclosure, she seized, and at the sound of
approaching footsteps thrust hastily into her