et
face! I can hardly wait until I see it again. If she only is not ill,
but--good God, it is gone!"

He had looked in the breast pocket of his street coat, that still hung
on the rack; it was empty. He stood holding the coat, with a puzzled
expression on his face, trying to think.

"I know I put it in that pocket--I recollect it distinctly," he said,
aloud; "perhaps it fell out when I took off my coat."

He looked hastily about the floor, then hurried out into the studio,
searching rapidly and carefully. His face grew more and more troubled.
Could anyone have come in during his absence and picked it up? Perhaps
Harry had been here; if so, it was safe. As he stood there reflecting,
trying to solve the mystery, he was looking directly at the weapons upon
the wall. All at once he noticed that there was something different
about their arrangement. Something was missing. It was the dagger! Then
it all came to him. "Evelin!" he shouted. "Good God!"

He had wasted valuable time searching for the letter. He could hardly
reach the place of appointment by six unless he could catch some kind of
a vehicle.

"My God--my God! she will kill her--she will kill her! and all through
my treachery."

He had fled from the house and was now speeding wildly westward. No cab
was in sight and he could not wait to find one.

"She will kill her--she will kill her!" he groaned, over and over. "Oh,
my God--my God!"

VIII.

At a quarter before six, a woman ascended the marble steps of the old
mansion at No. 74 West L---- Street, east side. She wore a plain dress
of silver-gray material, a rich Persian shawl, a neat walking hat, her
face thickly veiled. Reaching the door, she laid her gloved hand on the
knob, then hesitated, as if undecided whether to enter at once or ring.

The heavy clouds hung oppressively low, and it was already dusk. A few
flakes of snow were falling, but it was not cold.

All at once the woman removed her hand from the door, slipped off her
shawl and threw it across her arm. As she did so some thing glittered
bright, which she hastily concealed beneath the shawl. As she stood now
she was the exact counterpart of Eva Delorme. Then without further
hesitation she laid hold of and turned the heavy knob of the massive
black door. It yielded noiselessly, and she entered, closing it as
noiselessly behind her.

Within all was dark. A faint ray of light crept in through the transom,
penetrating a few feet into t