e
key of the poor-box?" inquired the spirit voice, and finally: "When are
they going to burn you?"

At that Don succumbed to uncontrollable laughter, and Paul had much ado
to preserve his gravity.

"She appears to be very young, Fawkes," he said gently; "little more
than a child. High spirits are proper and natural after all; but, of
course I appreciate the difficulties of your position. Good day."

"Good day, sir," said Fawkes, again momentarily relieved apparently from
the sense of impending harm. "Good day, sir." He raised the peak of his
cap, turned and resumed his slinking progress.

"A strange coincidence," commented Don, taking Paul's arm.

"You are pursuing your fancy about the nymph visible and invisible?"

"Not entirely, Paul. But you may remember, if the incident has not
banished the fact from your mind, that you are at present conducting me,
at my request, to Something-or-other Cottage, which I had failed to find
unassisted."

"Quite so. We are almost there. Yonder is Babylon Lane, which I
understand is part of my legacy. Dovelands Cottage, I believe, is
situated about half-way along it."

"Babylon Lane," mused Don. "Why so named?"

"That I cannot tell you. The name of Babylon invariably conjures up
strange pictures of pagan feasts, don't you find? The mere sound of the
word is sufficient to transport us to the great temple of Ishtar, and to
dazzle our imagination with processions of flower-crowned priestesses.
Heaven alone knows by what odd freak this peaceful lane was named after
the city of Semiramis. But you were speaking of a coincidence."

"Yes, it is the mother of the nymph, Flamby, that I am going to visit;
the Widow Duveen."

"Then this girl with the siren hair is she of whom you spoke?"

"Evidently none other. I told you, Paul, that I bore a message from her
father, given to me under pledge of secrecy as he lay dying, to her
mother. Paul, the man's life was a romance--a tragic romance. I cannot
divulge his secrets, but his name was not Duveen; he was a cadet of one
of the oldest families in Ireland."

"You interest me intensely. He seems to have been a wild fellow."

"Wild, indeed; and drink was his ruin. But he was a man, and by birth a
gentleman. I am anxious to meet his widow."

"Of course, she knows of his death?"

"Oh, you need fear no distressing scenes, Paul. I remember how the grief
of others affects you. He died six months ago."

"It affects me, Don, when I can do noth