and ashen face, that Mercedes
had been through enough in the last twelve hours to break down a
stronger person. And it was appropriate that she should return to her
desolate home in a prostrate condition.

Mrs. Talcott, as often before, played her part. The maids were summoned;
they supported Madame von Marwitz's body; Burton took her shoulders and
Mrs. Talcott her feet. So the afflicted woman was carried into the house
and upstairs and laid upon her bed.

Mrs. Talcott then went and sent telegrams to Frau Lippheim and to
Gregory Jardine. She asked them to let her know if Karen arrived in
London during the day. She had her answers that evening. That from
Gregory ran--"Not seen or heard of Karen. What has happened? Write by
return. Or shall I come to you?" The other was from the Lippheims'
landlady and said that the Lippheims had returned to Germany four days
before and that no one had arrived to see them.

The evening post had gone. Mrs. Talcott went out and answered Gregory by
wire: "Writing to-morrow morning. We think Karen is in London. Stay
where you are."

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Mrs. Talcott went early to Madame von Marwitz's room next morning, as
soon, in fact, as she had seen her breakfast-tray carried away. She had
shown Mercedes her telegrams the evening before, and Mercedes, lying on
her bed where she had passed the day in heavy slumbers, had muttered,
"Let me sleep. The post is gone. We can do nothing more till to-morrow."
Like a wounded creature she was regaining strength and wholeness in
oblivion. When Mrs. Talcott had gone softly into her room at bedtime,
she had found her soundly sleeping.

But the fumes and torpors of grief and pain were this morning dispersed.
Mercedes sat at the desk in her bedroom attired in a _robe-de-chambre_,
and rapidly and feverishly wrote.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better, Mercedes," said Mrs. Talcott,
closing the door and coming to her side. "We've got a lot to talk over
this morning. I guess we'll have to send for those detectives. What are
you writing there?"

Madame von Marwitz, whose face had the sodden, slumbrous look that
follows long repose, drew the paper quickly to one side and replied:
"You may mind your affairs and leave me to mind my own. I write to my
friend. I write to Mrs. Forrester."

"You hand me that letter, Mercedes," said Mrs. Talcott, in a mild but
singularly determined tone, and after a moment Madame von Marwitz did
hand it to her.

M