went to
throw it open, confident that she would see Nick smiling at her, saying in
his nice voice, "Well, are you ready?"

But it was not Nick. A bellboy of the hotel had brought up a large
cardboard box which had arrived by post. The address was printed: "Mrs.
May, Fairmont Hotel, San Francisco," and there were several stamps upon
it; but Angela could not make out the postmark. She found a pair of
scissors and cut the string. The box was tightly packed with a quantity
of beautiful foliage, lovely leaves shaped like oak leaves, and of bright
autumn colours, purple, gold, and crimson, though spring had hardly turned
to summer.

She plunged her hands into the box, lifting out the gorgeous mass, looking
for a card or note, but finding none. It was a pity that this mysterious
gift had arrived just as she was going away. However, she was keeping on
her rooms, and would leave instructions with the chambermaid to take great
care of the beauties.

Some one else was tapping at the door now, and this time it was Nick.
Angela's hands overflowed with their brilliant burden as she called aloud,
"Come in!" and he came with the very words she had expected: "Well, are
you ready?"

But they died on his lips, and it seemed to her, in the waning light, that
his face grew pale.

"Drop that stuff, quick, Mrs. May!"

He flung the words at her, and Angela, bewildered and amazed, threw down
the coloured leaves as if a tarantula hid among them.

"Have you got any ammonia?" Nick asked sharply.

"Yes."

"Go wash your hands in it while I use your telephone. Don't be frightened,
but that's poison-oak, and I want to prevent it from hurting you."

"Can it--kill me?" Her face quivered.

"No. And it shan't do you any harm if I can help it. But be quick as you
can. Keep your hands in the basin till I get what I'm sending out for."

Without another word Angela ran into the next room, and so to the bath.
As she poured ammonia into the marble basin, feeling a little faint, she
could hear Nick's voice at the telephone: "Send to the nearest drug store
for some gamgee tissue, a bundle of lint, and a pint bottle of lime-water.
This is a hurry call."

Angela's heart was thumping. It was horrible that there should be some one
in the world--a lurking, mysterious some one--who planned in secret to do
her dreadful harm. The incident seemed unreal. Whom did she know, on this
side of the world, who could hate her so bitterly? She was afraid, as of
ey