. So, putting on a dressing-gown and slippers, she crept along the
passage and into her own room. To awake the gentleman on the bed would
have required an earthquake. She lit a candle and stole over to the
bedside.

It was not Percy; it was not anyone like Percy. She felt it was not the
man that ever could have been her husband, under any circumstances. In
his present condition her sentiment towards him was that of positive
dislike. Her only desire was to get rid of him.

But something there was about him which seemed familiar to her. She went
nearer, and took a closer view. Then she remembered. Surely it was Mr.
Y., a gentleman at whose flat she and Percy had dined the day they first
arrived in Berlin.

But what was he doing here? She put the candle on the table, and taking
her head between her hands sat down to think. The explanation of the
thing came to her with a rush. It was with this Mr. Y. that Percy had
gone to the Kneipe. A mistake had been made. Mr. Y. had been brought
back to Percy's address. Percy at this very moment--

The terrible possibilities of the situation swam before her. Returning
to Dolly's room, she dressed herself hastily, and silently crept
downstairs. Finding, fortunately, a passing night-cab, she drove to the
address of Mrs. Y. Telling the man to wait, she flew upstairs and rang
persistently at the bell. It was opened as before by Mrs. Y., still in
her tea-gown, and with her book still in her hand.

"Mrs. X.!" exclaimed Mrs. Y. "Whatever brings you here?"

"My husband!" was all poor Mrs. X. could think to say at the moment, "is
he here?"

"Mrs. X.," returned Mrs. Y., drawing herself up to her full height, "how
dare you?"

"Oh, please don't misunderstand me!" pleaded Mrs. X. "It's all a
terrible mistake. They must have brought poor Percy here instead of to
our place, I'm sure they must. Do please look and see."

"My dear," said Mrs. Y., who was a much older woman, and more motherly,
"don't excite yourself. They brought him here about half an hour ago,
and, to tell you the truth, I never looked at him. He is in here. I
don't think they troubled to take off even his boots. If you keep cool,
we will get him downstairs and home without a soul beyond ourselves being
any the wiser.

Indeed, Mrs. Y. seemed quite eager to help Mrs. X.

She pushed open the door, and Mrs. X, went in. The next moment she came
out with a white, scared face.

"It isn't Percy," she