re was a clerk or someone in his
office, a man whom he trusted who deceived him, who was imprisoned, and
to whose people he then furnished means for support. It is criminal for
me to doubt him as I have. Do I not know him to be generous? have I not
found him sincere?"

She shook out a fold of her frock impatiently. "A child frightened at
momentary solitude was never more absurd than I." For a little space
she continued her promenade up and down the room, leaving at each turn
some fringe of suspicion behind. And presently the entire fabric seemed
to leave her. To the corners of her mouth the smile returned. She went
back to the sofa and was about to resume her former seat when her eyes
fell on the envelope which her husband had tossed on the table.
Mechanically she picked it up and glanced at the superscription. The
writing was thin as hair, but the lettering was larger than is usual,
abrupt and angular. To anyone else it would have suggested nothing
particular, save, perhaps, the idea that it had been formed with the
point of a tack; but to Eden it was luminous with intimations. Into the
palms of her hands came a sudden moisture, the color left her cheeks,
for a second she stood irresolute, the envelope in her trembling hold,
then, as though coerced by another than herself, she ran to a bell and
rang it.

In a moment the butler appeared. To conceal her agitation Eden had gone
to the piano. There were some loose sheets of music on the lid and
these she pretended to examine. "Is that you, Harris?" she asked,
without turning her head. "Harris, that man that brought the note for
Mr. Usselex this evening was the one that came on Monday with the note
for Mr. Arnswald, was it not?"

"I beg pardon, ma'am."

Eden reconstructed the question and repeated it.

"It was a young person, ma'am," Harris answered. "A lady's maid, most
likely. She was here before on Monday evening, just before dinner,
ma'am. She brought a letter and said there was no answer. I gave it to
Mr. Usselex."

"To Mr. Arnswald, you mean."

"No, ma'am; it was for Mr. Usselex."

Eden clutched at the piano. Through the sheet of music which she held
she saw that note again. The handwriting was identical with the one on
the envelope. But each word it contained was a separate flame, and each
flame was burning little round holes in her heart and eating it away. It
was very evident to her now. She had been tricked from the first. She
had been lied to and decei