her new but familiar voice--the voice of the competent Miss
Gardner, her discharged secretary. And Miss Gardner's voice was not
heard for an hour and then heard no more--but was heard day after
day, and her tone was the tone of a person who is acquainted with the
management of an establishment and who is giving necessary orders.
And another detail was that William no longer kept to the stable, but
seemed now constantly busy within the house. And another detail was
that she became aware that Jack and Mary no longer tried to keep their
presence in the house a secret, but went openly forth into the streets
together. And Judge Harvey every day came openly to see them.

But the most bewildering, and yet most clarifying, detail of all
was one she observed on the twelfth day since Matilda's going, the
twenty-fifth of her own official absence.

On that afternoon she was standing on a chair entertaining herself
by gazing through one of her shutters, when she saw Jack crossing
Washington Square. He was walking very soberly, and about the left
sleeve of a quiet gray summer suit was a band of crape.

Mrs. De Peyster stepped down from her chair. The mystery was lifting.
Somebody was dead! But who? Who?

Early the next morning, while the inmates of the house were occupied
in the serving or the eating of breakfast, Mrs. De Peyster was
startled by a soft knocking at her door. But instantly she was
reassured by the tremulous accents without.

"It's me, ma'am,--Matilda. Let me in--quick!"

The next instant the door opened and Matilda half staggered, half
fell, into the room. But such a Matilda! Shivering all over, eyes
wildly staring.

"What is it?" cried Mrs. De Peyster, seizing her housekeeper's arm.

"Oh, ma--ma--ma'am," chattered Matilda. "It's--it's awful!"

"But what is it?" demanded Mrs. De Peyster, beginning to tremble with
an unknown terror.

"Oh, it's--it's awful! I couldn't get you word before--for I didn't
dare write, and my sister wasn't well enough for me to leave her till
last night."

Mrs. De Peyster shook the shaking Matilda.

"Will you please tell me what's happened!"

"Yes, ma--ma'am. Here's a copy of the first paper that had anything
about it. The paper's over a week old. I brought it along to--to break
the thing to you gently."

Mrs. De Peyster seized the newspaper. In the center of its first page
was a reproduction of M. Dubois's painting of herself, and across the
paper's top ran the giant headlin