ifully, proudly
defiant, "forgive me for the pain I have caused you unknowingly. I did
not dream I was--an--an--heiress--or that Mr. Hurlhurst was my father.
I don't want you to go away, Pluma, from the luxury that has been
yours; stay and be my sister--share my home."

"My little tender-hearted angel!" cried Basil Hurlhurst, moved to
tears.

John Brooks hid his face in his hands.

For a single instant the eyes of these two girls met--whose lives had
crossed each other so strangely--Daisy's blue eyes soft, tender and
appealing, Pluma's hard, flashing, bitter and scornful.

She drew herself up to her full height.

"Remain in your house?" she cried, haughtily, trembling with rage.
"You mistake me, girl: do you think I could see you enjoying the home
that I have believed to be mine--see the man I love better than life
itself lavish caresses upon you--kiss your lips--and bear it calmly?
Live the life of a pauper when I have been led to believe I was an
heiress! Better had I never known wealth than be cast from luxury into
the slums of poverty," she wailed out, sharply. "I shall not touch a
dollar of your money, Basil Hurlhurst. I despise you too much. I have
lived with the trappings of wealth around me--the petted child of
luxury--all in vain--all in vain."

Basil Hurlhurst was struck with the terrible grandeur of the picture
she made, standing there in her magnificent, scornful pride--a wealth
of jewels flashing on her throat and breast and twined in the long,
sweeping hair that had become loosened and swept in a dark, shining
mass to her slender waist, her flashing eyes far outshining the jewels
upon which the softened gas-light streamed. Not one gleam of remorse
softened her stony face in its cruel, wicked beauty. Her jeweled hand
suddenly crept to the pocket of her dress where she had placed the
vial.

"Open that door!" she commanded.

The key fell from her mother's nerveless grasp. The detective quietly
picked it up, placed it in the lock, and opened the door. And just at
that instant, Rex Lyon, with the letter in his hand, reached it.

Pluma saw him first.

"Rex!" she cried, in a low, hoarse voice, staggering toward him; but
he recoiled from her, and she saw Stanwick's letter in his hands; and
she knew in an instant all her treachery was revealed; and without
another word--pale as death--but with head proudly erect, she swept
with the dignity of a princess from the scene of her bitter defeat,
closely fol