mirth and
happy promise, or the fancies he had conjured up to rob us both of
peace?

"Beaton mentioned no names," I stubbornly protested. "He did not even
call the vision he encountered a woman. It was a wraith, you remember, a
dream-maiden, a creature of his own imagination, born of some tragedy he
had read."

"Beaton is a gentleman," was Sinclair's cold reply. "He did not wish to
injure, but to warn the woman for whose benefit he told his tale."

"Warn?"

"He doubtless reasoned in this way: If he could make this young and
probably sensitive girl realise that she had been seen and her
intentions recognised, she would beware of such attempts in the future.
He is a kind-hearted fellow. Did you notice which end of the table he
ignored when relating this dramatic episode?"

"No."

"If you had we might be better able to judge where his thoughts were.
Probably you cannot even tell how the ladies took it?"

"No, I never thought of looking. Good God, Sinclair, don't let us harrow
up ourselves unnecessarily! I saw them both a moment ago, and nothing in
their manner showed that anything was amiss with either of them."

For answer he drew me toward the library.

This room was not frequented by the young people at night. There were
two or three elderly people in the party, notably the husband and the
brother of the lady of the house, and to their use the room was more or
less given up after nightfall. Sinclair wished to show me the cabinet
where the box had been.

There was a fire in the grate, for the evenings were now more or less
chilly. When the door had closed behind us we found that this fire
supplied all the light there was in the room. Both gas jets had been put
out, and the rich yet homelike room glowed with ruddy hues, interspersed
with great shadows. A solitary scene, yet an enticing one.

Sinclair drew a deep breath. "Mr. Armstrong must have gone elsewhere to
read the evening papers," he remarked.

I replied by casting a scrutinising look into the corners. I dreaded
finding a pair of lovers hid somewhere in the many nooks made by the
jutting bookcases. But I saw no one. However, at the other end of the
large room there stood a screen near one of the many lounges, and I was
on the point of approaching this place of concealment when Sinclair drew
me toward a tall cabinet upon whose glass doors the firelight was
shimmering, and, pointing to a shelf far above our heads, cried:

"No woman could reach that