d handed him:--

"The person to whom this glove belonged has been dead three days.
She died on a journey--alone. Think of the bridal flower,--it will
guide you to where she now lies waiting for those who loved her to
claim her."

Pargeter laid one hand on Vanderlyn's arm--with the other he took out of
one of his pockets a sheaf of thin slips of paper. The American knew
them to contain accounts of accidents and untoward occurrences
registered at the Prefecture of Police.

Pargeter detached one of the slips and laid it across the sheet of paper
on which Madame d'Elphis had written her laconic message:--

"Look--look at _this_, Grid! And don't say again I'm a fool for
believing in La d'Elphis! I've had this since the day before yesterday;
but I didn't bother to show it to you, for I didn't think anything of
it--I shouldn't now, but for La d'Elphis! But do look--'the body of a
young, fair woman found in a train at _Orange_,'--'the bridal flower,'
as La d'Elphis says--eh, what?"

But still Vanderlyn did not speak.

"I've thought it all out," Pargeter went on, excitedly. "Peggy was
driven to the wrong station--see? Got into the wrong train--and
then--then, Grid, when she found out what she'd done, she got
upset----" For the first time a note of awe, of horror, came into his
voice--"You see, my sister Sophy was right, after all; the poor girl's
heart was queer!"

"And what are you going to do now?" asked Vanderlyn in a low, dry tone.
"Arrange for a special to Orange, I suppose? What time will you start,
Tom? Would you like me to come with you?"

Pargeter reddened; his green eye blinked as if he felt suddenly blinded
by the bright sun.

"I'm not thinking of going myself," he said, rather ashamedly. "Where
would be the good of it? Her brother and that cousin of hers are sure to
want to go. They can take Plimmer. The truth is--well, old man, I don't
feel up to it! I've always had an awful horror of death. Peggy knew that
well enough----" the colour faded from his face; he looked at the other
with a nervous, dejected expression.

"Tom," said Vanderlyn, slowly, "why shouldn't _I_ go to Orange--with
Madame de Lera? Why say anything to Peggy's people till we really know?"

For the first time Pargeter seemed moved to genuine human feeling.
"Well," he said, "you _are_ a good friend, Grid! I'll never forget how
you've stood by me during this worrying time. I wish I could do
something for you in return--