that would centre about him now in his present condition as a
survivor of a wreck. The idea soon attracted him immensely and he began
to look out for any possible acquaintance as the car began to climb over
Nob Hill.

At the crossing of Polk Street he saw Ida Wade's mother in deep
mourning, standing near a grocery store holding a little pink parcel.

It was like a blow between the eyes. Vandover caught his breath and
started violently, feeling again for an instant the cold grip of the
hysterical terror that had so nearly overcome him on the morning after
Ida's death. It slowly relaxed, however, and by the time he had reached
the house on California Street he was almost himself again.

It was about church time when Vandover arrived at home once more. There
was a Sunday quiet in the air. The bells were ringing, and here and
there family groups on their way to church, the children walking in
front, very sedate in their best clothes, carrying the prayer-books
carefully, by special privilege.

The butler was working in the garden, as he sometimes did of a Sunday
morning, pottering about a certain bed of sweet-peas, and it was the
housekeeper who answered his ring. She recognized him with a prolonged
exclamation, raising her hands to heaven.

"O-oh, and is it you, Mr. Vandover, sir? Ah, how we've been upset about
you and all, and it's glad to see you back again your father will be!
Oh, such times as we had when we heard about the wreck and knowing you
were on it! Yes, sir, your father's _pretty_ well, though he was main
poorly yesterday morning. But he's better now. You'll find him in the
smoking-room now, sir."

Vandover pushed open the door of the smoking-room quietly. His father
was sitting unoccupied in the huge leather chair before the fireplace.
He was dead, and must have died some considerable time before, as he was
already cold. He could have suffered no pain, hardly a muscle had moved,
and his attitude was quite natural, the legs crossed, the right hand
holding the morning's paper. However, as soon as Vandover touched the
body it collapsed and slid down into a heap in the depth of the chair,
the jaw dropping open, the head rolling sidewise upon his shoulder.

Vandover ran out into the hall, waving his arms, shouting for the
servants. "Oh, why didn't you tell me?" he cried to the housekeeper "Why
did you let me find him so? When did he die?" The housekeeper was
distraught. She couldn't believe it. Only a littl