emarked.

Miss Althorpe looked thoughtful. While she was interested she was not so
interested as to take the subject in fully. Her own concerns made her
abstracted, and I was very glad of it.

"Louise Van Burnam had a sharp chin and a very cold blue eye. Yet her
face was a fascinating one to some."

"Well, it was a dreadful tragedy!" I observed, and tried to turn the
subject aside, which fortunately I was able to do after a short effort.

Then I picked the basket up, and perceiving the sick woman's lips
faintly moving, I went over to her and found her murmuring to herself.

As Miss Althorpe had risen when I did, I did not dare to listen to these
murmurs, but when my charming hostess had bidden me good-night, with
many injunctions not to tire myself, and to be sure and remember that a
decanter and a plate of biscuits stood on a table outside, I hastened
back to the bedside, and leaning over my patient, endeavored to catch
the words as they fell from her lips.

As they were simple and but the echo of those running at that very
moment through my own brain, I had no difficulty in distinguishing them.

"Van Burnam!" she was saying, "Van Burnam!" varied by a short "Howard!"
and once by a doubtful "Franklin!"

"Ah," thought I, with a sudden reaction, "she is the woman I seek, if
she is not Louise Van Burnam." And unheeding the start she gave, I
pulled off the blanket I had spread over her, and willy-nilly drew off
her left shoe and stocking.

Her bare ankle showed no scar, and covering it quickly up I took up her
shoe. Immediately the trepidation she had shown at the approach of a
stranger's hand towards that article of clothing was explained. In the
lining around the top were sewn bills of no ordinary amount, and as the
other shoe was probably used as a like depository, she naturally felt
concern at any approach which might lead to a discovery of her little
fortune.

Amazed at a mystery possessing so many points of interest, I tucked the
shoe in under the bedclothes and sat down to review the situation.

The mistake I had made was in concluding that because the fugitive whose
traces I had followed had worn the clothes of Louise Van Burnam, she
must necessarily be that unfortunate lady. Now I saw that the murdered
woman was Howard's wife after all, and this patient of mine her probable
rival.

But this necessitated an entire change in my whole line of reasoning. If
the rival and not the wife lay before me, then w