answerable for the death which had occurred in the library at
the time of her marriage--that, in the words of the district
attorney, she had come to her husband with blood on her hands, my
thoughts would not go; confusion followed the least attempt to
settle the vital question of how far Miss Tuttle and Mr. Jeffrey
had been involved in the earlier crime and what the coming interview
with these two would add to our present knowledge. In my anxiety to
have this question answered I hastened my steps and was soon at the
door of Miss Tuttle's present dwelling place.

I had not seen this lady since the inquest, and my heart beat high
as I sat awaiting her appearance in the dim little parlor where I
had been seated by the person who held her under secret surveillance.
The scene I had just been through, the uncertain nature of the
relations held by this beautiful woman both toward the crime just
discovered and the one long associated with her name, lent to these
few moments of anticipation an emotion which poorly prepared me for
the touching sight of the patient smile with which she presently
entered.

But I doubt if she noticed my agitation. She was too much swayed
by her own. Advancing upon me in all the unconscious pride of her
great beauty, she tremulously remarked:

"You have a message for me. Is it from headquarters? Or has the
district attorney still more questions to ask?"

"I have a much more trying errand than that," I hastened to say,
with some idea of preparing her for an experience that could not
fail to be one of exceptional trial. "For reasons which will be
explained to you by those in greater authority than myself, you are
wanted at the house where--" I could not help stammering
under the light of her melancholy eyes--"where I saw you once
before," I lamely concluded.

"The house in Waverley Avenue?" she objected wildly, with the first
signs of positive terror I had ever beheld in her.

I nodded, dropping my eyes. What call had I to penetrate the
conscience of this woman?

"Are they there? all there?" she presently asked again. "The
police and--and Mr. Jeffrey?"

"Madam," I respectfully protested, "my duty is limited to
conducting you to the place named. A carriage is waiting. May I
beg that you will prepare yourself to go at once to Waverley Avenue?"

For answer she subjected me to a long and earnest look which I found
it impossible to evade. Then she hastened from the room, but with
v