e notice began:

"We understand that the long-expected betrothal between his Grace of
Borthwicke and Mistress Nancy Stair, only daughter of Lord Stair, is
announced," the penny-a-liner going on with much wordiness to state the
time and place fixed for the coming marriage, and even the shops in
London from which the trousseau was to come.

"Gentlemen," I cried, "upon my honor there is not a word of truth in
all of this," and, securing a copy of the miserable sheet, turned back
to Stair to discover from Nancy whether to deny the announcement by
direct statement or let the rumor die in silence.

I entered the house by the side door which leads to the music-room,
outside of which I paused, astonished at the sound of angry and excited
voices within the apartment. As I listened, wondering if some new
trouble was upon us, I recognized Danvers Carmichael's tone, and almost
upon the instant of this recognition, heard him cry out:

"I will save you the promising, for I swear he shall never live to
marry you!"

His Grace of Borthwicke being within possible earshot of this
altercation, I decided to leave Danvers to Nancy's management, and
hurried up the winding stairs to hold the duke's attention until
Danvers had left the house.

Looking down into the main hall as I ascended the stair I saw Hugh
Pitcairn rise from a couch upon which he had been lying and cross to
the far window with some suddenness of manner, and knew by instinct
that he had realized the talk was not intended for his ears, and had
hastily changed his position, like the man of honor that he was.

Finding that the duke had not left his apartment in my absence I
crossed to my own room, where I was not alone above five minutes before
Nancy joined me.

"Mr. Pitcairn is below, waiting for the duke to affix some signatures,"
she said; and then:

"Danvers Carmichael has been here, too. He saw an announcement in The
Lounger that I was betrothed to his Grace of Borthwicke, and came by to
tell me--as you did yourself," she ended, with a smile, "that the
wedding would have to take place without his approval."

CHAPTER XXIV

THE MURDER

Up to this point there are many events which I have drawn with blurred
edges by reason of the distance of time; but from this to the end of my
story I have the pettiest details of it in mind, many of them with a
horrid distinctness.

On the evening of the twenty-third the Armstrongs held a dance in honor
of the marriag