men come in this
house,--hey, Bill?"

"Sure--I was a block off, but I seen 'em plain as day," said Bill.

"So I guess," again the twist that proved him a policeman, "you'd
better lead us to your pal."

He pushed her before him, lighting the way with his flash-lantern, up
stairways and back into the dining-room, where she turned on the one
shaded electric bulb that had been left connected. In Matilda all hope
was gone; resistance was useless; fate had conquered. And when the
officer again demanded that she bring forth her accomplice, she dumbly
and obediently made search; and finally brought Mrs. De Peyster forth
from the china closet.

The officer pulled up Mrs. De Peyster's veil, and closely scanned her
features; which, to be just to the officer, were so distorted that
they bore little semblance to the Mrs. De Peyster of her portraits.

"Recognize her, Bill?" he queried.

"Looks a bit like the pictures of Chicago Sal," said Bill. "But I
ain't ever handled her. I guess she ain't worked none around New
York."

"Well, now," said the officer, with policial jocularity, "since you
two ladies already got your hats on, I guess we'll just offer you our
arms to the station."

Mrs. De Peyster gave Matilda a look of frenzied appeal. But Matilda
needed not the spur of another's desperation. For herself she saw a
prison cell agape.

"But I tell you I'm Matilda Simpson, Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper!"

"If so, who's the other mourner?" inquired the humorous policeman.
"And what's she doin' here?"

"She's--she's"--and then Matilda plunged blindly at a lie--"she's my
sister." And having started, she went on: "My sister Angelica, who
lives in Syracuse. She's come to visit me awhile."

The officer grinned. "Well, Matilda and Angelica, we'll give you a
chance to tell that to the lieutenant. Come on."

"But I tell you I'm Matilda Simpson!" cried Matilda. She was now
thinking solely of her own imminent disgrace. Inspiration came to her.
"You say you talked to William, the coachman. He'll tell you who I am.
There's the bell--ring for him!"

The officer scratched his chin. Then he eyed his co-laborer
meditatively.

"Not a bad idea, Bill. There's a chance she may be on the level, and
there'd be hell to pay at headquarters if we got in bad with any of
these swells. No harm tryin'."

He pressed a big thumb against the bell Matilda had indicated.

They all sat down, the two officers' oilskins guttering water all
over Mrs.