ear us. The curtain was drawn back and a tall man dressed in a black
domino glanced in, gave us a scrutinizing look, bowed, and dropped the
curtain again.

"Hartley," she whisperingly explained.

I took her by the hand; there was no help for it; gesture and a
lover-like demeanor must, in this case, supply the place of speech.

"Hush!" she entreated. (Not that I had spoken.) "I dare not stay. When
you have seen your father, perhaps I will have courage to join you; but
now it would be better for me to go." And her eyes roamed toward the
curtain, while the little hand I held in mine grew cold and slightly
trembled.

I pressed that little hand, but, as you may well believe, did not urge
her to remain. Yet she did not seem in a hurry to depart, and I do not
know what complications might have ensued, if another movement in the
curtain had not reawakened her fears and caused her, notwithstanding her
evident reluctance, to start quickly away.

I did not linger long behind her. Scarcely had the curtain fallen from
her hand than I stepped hastily forth. But alas for my hopes of escape!
No sooner had I joined the group of merry-makers circling about the open
door, than I felt a touch on my arm, and looking up, saw before me the
Black Domino. The hour of ten had struck and my guide to the library was
at hand. There was no alternative left me but to follow him.

III.

AN UNEXPECTED CALAMITY.

Five minutes passed, during which I threaded more laughing groups and
sauntered down more mysterious passage-ways than I would care to count.
Still the mysterious Black Domino glided on before me, leading me from
door to door till my patience was nearly exhausted, and I had well-nigh
determined to give him the slip and make my way at once to the garden,
and the no-doubt-by-this-time-highly-impatient Joe.

But before I had the opportunity of carrying out this scheme, the
ominous Black Domino paused, and carelessly pointing to a door at the
termination of a narrow corridor, bowed, and hastily withdrew.

"Now," said I, as soon as I found myself alone, "shall I proceed with
this farce, or shall I end it? To go on means to interview Mr. Benson,
acquaint him with what has come to my knowledge during the last half
hour in which I have so successfully personified his son, and by these
means perhaps awake him to the truth concerning this serious matter of
Joseph's innocence or Hartley's guilt; while to stop now implies nothing
more n