she transferred
her regard to Margaret Brewster; she had been such a satisfactory
friend--why oh, why did she wish to become her step-mother? The twins,
with the unerring instinct of womanhood, had decided ten days before
that Weller's warning to his son was timely--Mrs. Brewster was a most
dangerous widow.

"How is your sister?" inquired Clymer, breaking the silence which had
lasted nearly five minutes. He was never quite certain which twin he was
talking to, and generally solved the problem by familiarizing himself
with their mode of dress. The plan had not always worked as the twins
had a bewildering habit of exchanging clothes, to the enjoyment of
Barbara's mischief loving soul, and the mystification of their numerous
admirers.

"She is rather blue and depressed," answered Barbara. "We are both
feeling the reaction from the shock of Jimmie Turnbull's tragic death.
You must forgive me if I am a bore; I am not good company to-night."

The arrival of the head waiter at their table interrupted Clymer's
reply.

"This gentleman desires to speak to you a moment, Miss McIntyre," he
said, and indicated a young man in a sack suit standing just back of
him.

"I'm Parker of the Post," the reporter introduced himself with a bow
which included Clymer. "May I sit down?" laying his hand on the back of
Mrs. Brewster's vacant chair.

"Surely; and won't you have an ice?" Barbara's hospitable instincts were
aroused. "Here, waiter--"

"No, thanks; I haven't time," protested Parker, slipping into the chair.
"I just came from your house, Miss McIntyre; the butler said I might
find you here, and as it was rather important, I took the liberty of
introducing myself. We plan to run a story, featuring the dangers of
masquerading in society, and of course it hinges on the death of Mr.
Turnbull. I'm sorry"--he apologized as he saw Barbara wince. "I realize
the topic is one to make you feel badly; but I promise to ask only few
questions." His smile was very engaging and Barbara's resentment receded
somewhat.

"What are they?" she asked.

"Did you recognize Mr. Turnbull in his burglar's make-up when you
confronted him in the police court?" Parker drew out copy paper and a
pencil, and waited for her reply. There was a pause.

"I did not recognize Mr. Turnbull in court," she stated finally. "His
death was a frightful shock."

"Sure. It was to everybody," agreed Parker. "How about your sister, Miss
Barbara; did she recognize him?"