ly turn the carpet up a little between the
rings."

"That is a good idea," she said. "It is as well that you should know
where it is, in case anything were to happen to me."

She was already in the corner, and she thrust the key under the doubled
edge of the crimson carpet.

"You are ingenious," she observed drily, as she rose to her feet. "I
should not have thought of that. It is a pity that you have not been
able to apply your ingenuity better in other ways, too. It has been
wasted."

"I am not sure," answered Macomer, thoughtfully. "If Bosio marries
Veronica, our position will be a very good one, considering the
misfortunes through which we have passed. If he should not, and if
Veronica should die, it will be much better. I am not sure but that, if
I had no affection for the girl, I might prefer that she should die."

Matilde glanced at him sideways, uneasily.

"We will not speak of that," she said, as though it were a disagreeable
subject.

"No."

Then, without warning, his jarring, crashing laughter filled the room
again for a moment, and she started as she heard it, and looked round
nervously.

"I really wish you would not laugh in that way," she said, with a frown.
"There is nothing to laugh at, I assure you."

"I did not know that I laughed," said Macomer, indifferently. "That is
the second time in a quarter of an hour. How odd it would be if I were
to laugh unconsciously in that way when--" He seemed to check the words
that were coming.

"When, for instance?" asked Matilde, not guessing what was passing in
his mind.

"At the funeral," he answered shortly. Matilde started again, and looked
at him anxiously. She had resumed her seat after she had hidden the key,
but she now rose and went to him. He was still standing before the
window, though he had finished his cigarette and had thrown away the end
of it. She stood before him a moment before she spoke, fixing her eyes
severely on his face.

"Control yourself!" she said sternly. "I understand that you are nervous
and over-strained. That is no reason for behaving like a fool."

He also paused an instant before speaking. Then, all at once, his
features assumed an expression of docility, not at all natural to him.

"Yes," he answered, "I will try. I think you are quite right. I really
am very much over-strained in these days."

Matilde was surprised by his change of manner, but was glad to find that
she could control him so easily.

"It will