bitter has been my life--yes,
sir, it has been one of humiliation and suffering, and now there has
come to me this terrible sorrow. It may prove even a greater sorrow than
I at present dare anticipate, but I trust not."

"You need not fear to show me your face."

"May I first tell you my story, sir?"

"Yes."

"I was left an orphan at a very early age. I was reared in an
institution until I was able to go out to work. I never knew my parents,
I never knew my real name. I was deserted in my infancy and I grew up to
be quite a fair-looking girl. I can say this now, sir, without any
feeling of exultation, for what beauty I may once have possessed
vanished in one night, and I am now hideous to look at. When I left the
asylum in which I had been placed I went to live with a very kind
family, and at the age of twenty I married a poor but very worthy man.
My little daughter was five years old when one night our little family
was aroused by the barking of our dog. We lived up in the country in
New York State. My husband was an invalid and slept in a room adjoining
the one I occupied with my child. As I told you, I was aroused by the
barking of our dog; I knew it meant danger, and I leaped from my bed and
instantly discovered that our little home was on fire. I rushed down the
one flight of stairs with my child in my arms, and then returned to aid
my husband to escape, but, alas! I was overcome by smoke and flame and
fell unconscious, and would have been consumed had not a neighbor rushed
in and dragged me forth. I was saved, but when the fire was subdued and
they entered the room of my husband, they found him dead. He had been
suffocated, and I, alas! was horribly disfigured for life, being
terribly burned in the face. This, sir, is a part of my story. I am
terribly scarred and, now if you still desire to see my face I will
remove my veil before continuing my story."

"Madam, you need not be ashamed to remove your veil. Your scars were
honorably won; you should be proud--yes, I will look upon your face."

The woman removed her veil, and indeed she did have two ghastly looking
scars, but she had exaggerated her disfigurement, for despite the scars
hers was not an uncomely face to look upon. Her eyes were beautiful, and
the detective was led to say with chivalrous truth and gallantry:

"Madam, you may once have been so beautiful, over-sensitiveness causes
you to exaggerate your misfortune, but enough, tell me your story. T