"We shall never, never find out who he
was, by whom it was painted, or what made you break it, or why--"

"Ah," he shouted eagerly, defying, as the memories came crowding into
his brain, the doubts which had freshly assailed him. "I told you it
might be possible! And he did have, after all--for that man was the
father of her child!"

"Whose child?" Julia gasped.

But love and pity for her whom he could not name kept him from
answering. And in the drift of his silence the vision capriciously
failed him. He looked at Julia. He looked back at the wall. It was
nothing but a funny old picture which hung there confronting them.
The commonplaceness, beside it, of Julia's long-drawn expression made
him snicker, until, as a result of this accidental reaction, they were
both actually giggling aloud.

He turned away from her. She watched him cross to the bureau. He pulled
out each one of the drawers in turn. He peered blankly into them, where
there was only the smell of mold and whirring dust to greet his pains.

He persistently scanned the room again. What had become of the hat-tub?
Why had the Chinese water-jug gone from the squalid little wash-stand?
Baffled and solemn, he went back over to her.

"Haven't you taken some things away?"

"Nothing. Not even so much as a splinter. What are you trying to find?"

Timidly catching her hand he cried:

"Come with me, please." And he drew her to the closet door. But when he
opened it, he let go her hand in his amazement.

A slit of window at the far end let in a ray of sun. There were rows and
rows of wooden hooks, but there seemed nothing on them. Steeling himself
boldly to view it, he turned to where there might have dangled that
calico bag stuffed with pieces against which the stranger had leaned. He
went forward and felt over the empty spaces to satisfy himself.

"Yes, Julia," he slowly brought out, "you are right; it was a dream--a
mystery." And he nodded vacantly to her.

"If only, Jack, you could remember it all!"

She stretched out her arms to him. But just as she was coming nearer, he
caught sight of something lying between them on the floor. He darted for
it, picked it up, and ran with it out of the shadow. Then, in terror, he
saw that it was a piece of crumpled gray chiffon, and that there were
the stains of blood upon it.

VENGEANCE IS MINE[10]

BY VIRGIL JORDAN

From _Everybody's Magazine_

[10] Copyright, 1915, by The Ridgway Company. Copyright, 19