THE fire burning in the grate was not a very large one; and theouter air (as I had noticed on my way to the house) had somethingof a wintry sharpness in it that day.

Still, my first feeling, when Major Fitz-David left me, was afeeling of heat and oppression, with its natural result, adifficulty in breathing freely. The nervous agitation of the timewas, I suppose, answerable for these sensations. I took off mybonnet and mantle and gloves, and opened the window for a littlewhile. Nothing was to be seen outside but a paved courtyard, witha skylight in the middle, closed at the further end by the wallof the Major's stables. A few minutes at the window cooled andrefreshed me. I shut it down again, and took my first step on theway of discovery. In other words, I began my first examination ofthe four walls around me, and of all that they inclosed.

I was amazed at my own calmness. My interview with MajorFitz-David had, perhaps, exhausted my capacity for feeling anystrong emotion, for the time at least. It was a relief to me tobe alone; it was a relief to me to begin the search. Those weremy only sensations so far.

The shape of the room was oblong. Of the two shorter walls, onecontained the door in grooves which I have already mentioned ascommunicating with the front room; the other was almost entirelyoccupied by the broad window which looked out on the courtyard.

Taking the doorway wall first, what was there, in the shape offurniture, on either side of it? There was a card-table on eitherside. Above each card-table stood a magnificent china bowl placedon a gilt and carved bracket fixed to the wall.

I opened the card-tables. The drawers beneath contained nothingbut cards, and the usual counters and markers. With the exceptionof one pack, the cards in both tables were still wrapped in theirpaper covers exactly as they had come from the shop. I examinedthe loose pack, card by card. No writing, no mark of any kind,was visible on any one of them. Assisted by a library ladderwhich stood against the book-case, I looked next into the twochina bowls. Both were perfectly empty. Was there anything moreto examine on that side of the room? In the two corners therewere two little chairs of inlaid wood, with red silk cushions. Iturned them up and looked under the cushions, and still I made nodiscoveries. When I had put the chairs back in their places mysearch on one side of the room was complete. So far I had foundnothing.

I crossed to the opposite wall, the wall which contained thewindow.

The window (occupying, as I have said, almost the entire lengthand height of the wall) was divided into three compartments, andwas adorned at their extremity by handsome curtains of dark redvelvet. The ample heavy folds of the velvet left just room at thetwo corners of the wall for two little upright cabinets in buhl,containing rows of drawers, and supporting two fine bronzeproductions (reduced in size) of the Venus Milo and the VenusCallipyge. I had Major Fitz-David's permission to do just what Ipleased. I opened the si x drawers in each cabinet, and examinedtheir contents without hesitation.

Beginning with the cabinet in the right-hand corner, myinvestigations were soon completed. All the six drawers werealike occupied by a collection of fossils, which (judging by thecurious paper inscriptions fixed on some of them) were associatedwith a past period of the Major's life when he had speculated,not very successfully in mines. After satisfying myself that thedrawers contained nothing but the fossils and their inscriptions,I turned to the cabinet in the left-hand corner next.

Here a variety of objects was revealed to view, and theexamination accordingly occupied a much longer time.

The top drawer contained a complete collection of carpenter'stools in miniature, relics probably of the far-distant time whenthe Major was a boy, and when parents or friends had made him apresent of a set of toy tools. The second drawer was filled withtoys of another sort--presents made to Major Fitz-David by hisfair friends. Embroidered braces, smart smoking-caps, quaintpincushions, gorgeous slippers, glittering purses, all borewitness to the popularity of the friend of the women. Thecontents of the third drawer were of a less interesting sort: theentire space was filled with old account-books, ranging over aperiod of many years. After looking into each book, and openingand shaking it uselessly, in search of any loose papers whichmight be hidden between the leaves, I came to the fourth drawer,and found more relics of past pecuniary transactions in the shapeof receipted bills, neatly tied together, and each inscribed atthe back. Among the bills I found nearly a dozen loose papers,all equally unimportant. The fifth drawer was in sad confusion. Itook out first a loose bundle of ornamental cards, eachcontaining the list of dishes at past banquets given or attendedby the Major in London or Paris; next, a box full of delicatelytinted quill pens (evidently a lady's gift); next, a quantity ofold invitation cards; next, some dog's-eared French plays andbooks of the opera; next, a pocket-corkscrew, a bundle ofcigarettes, and a bunch of rusty keys; lastly, a passport, a setof luggage labels, a broken silver snuff-box, two cigar-cases,and a torn map of Rome. "Nothing anywhere to interest me," Ithought, as I closed the fifth, and opened the sixth and lastdrawer.

The sixth drawer was at once a surprise and a disappointment. Itliterally contained nothing but the fragments of a broken vase.

I was sitting, at the time, opposite to the cabinet, in a lowchair. In the momentary irritation caused by my discovery of theemptiness of the last drawer, I had just lifted my foot to pushit back into its place, when the door communicating with the hallopened, and Major Fitz-David stood before me.

His eyes, after first meeting mine, traveled downward to my foot.The instant he noticed the open drawer I saw a change in hisface. It was only for a moment; but in that moment he looked atme with a sudden suspicion and surprise--looked as if he hadcaught me with my hand on the clew.

"Pray don't let me disturb you," said Major Fitz-David. "I haveonly come here to ask you a question."

"What is it, Major?"

"Have you met with any letters of mine in the course of yourinvestigations?"

"I have found none yet," I answered. "If I do discover anyletters, I shall, of course, not take the liberty of examiningthem."

"I wanted to speak to you about that," he rejoined. "It onlystruck me a moment since, upstairs, that my letters mightembarrass you. In your place I should feel some distrust ofanything which I was not at liberty to examine. I think I can setthis matter right, however, with very little trouble to either ofus. It is no violation of any promises or pledges on my part if Isimply tell you that my letters will not assist the discoverywhich you are trying to make. You can safely pass them over asobjects that are not worth examining from your point of view. Youunderstand me, I am sure?"

"I am much obliged to you, Major--I quite understand."

"Are you feeling any fatigue?"

"None whatever, thank you."

"And you still hope to succeed? You are not beginning to bediscouraged already?"

"I am not in the least discouraged. With your kind leave, I meanto persevere for some time yet."

I had not closed the drawer of the cabinet while we were talking,and I glanced carelessly, as I answered him, at the fragments ofthe broken vase. By this time he had got his feelings underperfect command. He, too, glanced at the fragments of the vasewith an appearance of perfect indifference. I remembered the lookof suspicion and surprise that had escaped him on entering theroom, and I thought his indifference a little overacted.

"_That_ doesn't look very encouraging," he said, with a smile,pointing to the shattered pieces of china in the drawer.

"Appearances are not always to be trusted," I replied. "Thewisest thing I can do in my present situation is to suspecteverything, even down to a broken vase."

I looked hard at him as I spoke. He changed the subject.

"Does the music upstairs annoy you?" he asked.

"Not in the least, Major."

"It will soon be over now. The singing-master is going, and theItalian master has just arrived. I am sparing no pains to make myyoung prima donna a most accomplished person. In learning to singshe must also learn the language which is especially the languageof music. I shall perfect her in the accent when I take her toItaly. It is the height of my ambition to have her mistaken foran Italian when she sings in public. Is there anything I can dobefore I leave you again? May I send you some more champagne?Please say yes!"

"A thousand thanks, Major. No more champagne for the present."

He turned at the door to kiss his hand to me at parting. At thesame moment I saw his eyes wander slyly toward the book-case. Itwas only for an instant. I had barely detected him before he wasout of the room.

Left by myself again, I looked at the book-case--looked at itattentively for the first time.

It was a handsome piece of furniture in ancient carved oak, andit stood against the wall which ran parallel with the hall of thehouse. Excepting the space occupied in the upper corner of theroom by the second door, which opened into the hall, thebook-case filled the whole length of the wall down to the window.The top was ornamented by vases, candelabra, and statuettes, inpairs, placed in a row. Looking along the row, I noticed a vacantspace on the top of the bookcase at the extremity of it which wasnearest to the window. The opposite extremity, nearest to thedoor, was occupied by a handsome painted vase of a very peculiarpattern. Where was the corresponding vase, which ought to havebeen placed at the corresponding extremity of the book-case? Ireturned to the open sixth drawer of the cabinet, and looked inagain. There was no mistaking the pattern on the fragments when Iexamined them now. The vase which had been broken was the vasewhich had stood in the place now vacant on the top of thebook-case at the end nearest to the window.

Making this discovery, I took out the fragments, down to thesmallest morsel of the shattered china, and examined themcarefully one after another.

I was too ignorant of the subject to be able to estimate thevalue of the vase or the antiquity of the vase, or even to knowwhether it were of British or of foreign manufacture. The groundwas of a delicate cream-color. The ornaments traced on this werewreaths of flowers and Cupids surrounding a medallion on eitherside of the vase. Upon the space within one of the medallions waspainted with exquisite delicacy a woman's head, representing anymph or a goddess, or perhaps a portrait of some celebratedperson--I was not learned enough to say which. The othermedallion inclosed the head of a man, also treated in theclassical style. Reclining shepherds and shepherdesses in Watteaucostume, with their dogs and their sheep, formed the adornmentsof the pedestal. Such had the vase been in the days of itsprosperity, when it stood on the top of the book-case. By what accident had it become broken? And why had Major Fitz-David's facechanged when he found that I had discovered the remains of hisshattered work of art in the cabinet drawer?

The remains left those serious questions unanswered--the remainstold me absolutely nothing. And yet, if my own observation of theMajor were to be trusted, the way to the clew of which I was insearch lay, directly or indirectly, through the broken vase.

It was useless to pursue the question, knowing no more than Iknew now. I returned to the book-case.

Thus far I had assumed (without any sufficient reason) that theclew of which I was in search must necessarily reveal itselfthrough a written paper of some sort. It now occurred tome--after the movement which I had detected on the part of theMajor--that the clew might quite as probably present itself inthe form of a book.

I looked along the lower rows of shelves, standing just nearenough to them to read the titles on the backs of the volumes. Isaw Voltaire in red morocco, Shakespeare in blue, Walter Scott ingreen, the "History of England" in brown, the "Annual Register"in yellow calf. There I paused, wearied and discouraged alreadyby the long rows of volumes. How (I thought to myself) am I toexamine all these books? And what am I to look for, even if I doexamine them all?

Major Fitz-David had spoken of a terrible misfortune which haddarkened my husband's past life. In what possible way could anytrace of that misfortune, or any suggestive hint of somethingresembling it, exist in the archives of the "Annual Register" orin the pages of Voltaire? The bare idea of such a thing seemedabsurd The mere attempt to make a serious examination in thisdirection was surely a wanton waste of time.

And yet the Major had certainly stolen a look at the book-case.And again, the broken vase had once stood on the book-case. Didthese circumstances justify me in connecting the vase and thebook-case as twin landmarks on the way that led to discovery? Thequestion was not an easy one to decide on the spur of the moment.

I looked up at the higher shelves.

Here the collection of books exhibited a greater variety. Thevolumes were smaller, and were not so carefully arranged as onthe lower shelves. Some were bound in cloth, some were onlyprotected by paper covers; one or two had fallen, and lay flat onthe shelves. Here and there I saw empty spaces from which bookshad been removed and not replaced. In short, there was nodiscouraging uniformity in these higher regions of the book-case.The untidy top shelves looked suggestive of some lucky accidentwhich might unexpectedly lead the way to success. I decided, if Idid examine the book-case at all, to begin at the top.

Where was the library ladder?

I had left it against the partition wall which divided the backroom from the room in front. Looking that way, I necessarilylooked also toward the door that ran in grooves--the imperfectlyclosed door through which I heard Major Fitz-David question hisservant on the subject of my personal appearance when I firstentered the house. No one had moved this door during the time ofmy visit. Everybody entering or leaving the room had used theother door, which led into the hall.

At the moment when I looked round something stirred in the frontroom. The movement let the light in suddenly through the smallopen space left by the partially closed door. Had somebody beenwatching me through the chink? I stepped softly to the door, andpushed it back until it was wide open. There was the Major,discovered in the front room! I saw it in his face--he had beenwatching me at the book-case!

His hat was in his hand. He was evidently going out; and hedexterously took advantage of that circumstance to give aplausible reason for being so near the door.

"I hope I didn't frighten you," he said.

"You startled me a little, Major."

"I am so sorry, and so ashamed! I was just going to open thedoor, and tell you that I am obliged to go out. I have received apressing message from a lady. A charming person--I should so likeyou to know her. She is in sad trouble, poor thing. Little bills,you know, and nasty tradespeople who want their money, and ahusband--oh, dear me, a husband who is quite unworthy of her! Amost interesting creature. You remind me of her a little; youboth have the same carriage of the head. I shall not be more thanhalf an hour gone. Can I do anything for you? You are lookingfatigued. Pray let me send for some more champagne. No? Promiseto ring when you want it. That's right! _Au revoir_, my charmingfriend--_au revoir!_"

I pulled the door to again the moment his back was turned, andsat down for a while to compose myself.

He had been watching me at the book-case! The man who was in myhusband's confidence, the man who knew where the clew was to befound, had been watching me at the book-case! There was no doubtof it now. Major Fitz-David had shown me the hiding-place of thesecret in spite of himself!

I looked with indifference at the other pieces of furniture,ranged against the fourth wall, which I had not examined yet. Isurveyed, without the slightest feeling of curiosity, all thelittle elegant trifles scattered on the tables and on thechimney-piece, each one of which might have been an object ofsuspicion to me under other circumstances. Even the water-colordrawings failed to interest me in my present frame of mind. Iobserved languidly that they were most of them portraits ofladies--fair idols, no doubt, of the Major's facileadoration--and I cared to notice no more. _My_ business in thatroom (I was certain of it now!) began and ended with thebook-case. I left my seat to fetch the library ladder,determining to begin the work of investigation on the topshelves.

On my way to the ladder I passed one of the tables, and saw thekeys lying on it which Major Fitz-David had left at my disposal.

The smaller of the two keys instantly reminded me of thecupboards under the bookcase. I had strangely overlooked these. Avague distrust of the locked doors a vague doubt of what theymight be hiding from me, stole into my mind. I left the ladder inits place against the wall, and set myself to examine thecontents of the cupboards first.

The cupboards were three in number. As I opened the first of themthe singing upstairs ceased. For a moment there was somethingalmost oppressive in the sudden change from noise to silence. Isuppose my nerves must have been overwrought. The next sound inthe house--nothing more remarkable than the creaking of a man'sboots descending the stairs--made me shudder all over. The manwas no doubt the singing-master, going away after giving hislesson. I heard the house door close on him, and started at thefamiliar sound as if it were something terrible which I had neverheard before. Then there was silence again. I roused myself aswell as I could, and began my examination of the first cupboard.

It was divided into two compartments.

The top compartment contained nothing but boxes of cigars, rangedin rows, one on another. The under compartment was devoted to acollection of shells. They were all huddled together anyhow, theMajor evidently setting a far higher value on his cigars than onhis shells. I searched this lower compartment carefully for anyobject interesting to me which might be hidden in it. Nothing wasto be found in any part of it besides the shells.

As I opened the second cupboard it struck me that the light wasbeginning to fail.

I looked at the window: it was hardly evening yet. The darkeningof the light was produced by gathering clouds. Rain-dropspattered against the glass; the autumn wind whistled mournfullyin the corners of the courtyard. I mended the fire before Irenewed my search. My nerves were in fault again, I suppose. Ishivered when I went back to the book-case. My hands trembled: Iwondered what was the matter with me.

The second cupboard revealed (in the upper division of it) somereally beautiful cameos--not mounted, but laid on cotton-wool inneat cardboard trays. In one corner, half hidden under one of thetrays, there peeped out the whit e leaves of a little manuscript.I pounced on it eagerly, only to meet with a new disappointment:the manuscript proved to be a descriptive catalogue of thecameos--nothing more!

Turning to the lower division of the cupboard, I found morecostly curiosities in the shape of ivory carvings from Japan andspecimens of rare silk from China. I began to feel weary ofdisinterring the Major's treasures. The longer I searched, thefarther I seemed to remove myself from the one object that I hadit at heart to attain. After closing the door of the secondcupboard, I almost doubted whether it would be worth my while toproceed farther and open the third and last door.

A little reflection convinced me that it would be as well, nowthat I had begun my examination of the lower regions of thebook-case, to go on with it to the end. I opened the lastcupboard.

On the upper shelf there appeared, in solitary grandeur, oneobject only--a gorgeously bound book.

It was of a larger size than usual, judging of it by comparisonwith the dimensions of modern volumes. The binding was of bluevelvet, with clasps of silver worked in beautiful arabesquepatterns, and with a lock of the same precious metal to protectthe book from prying eyes. When I took it up, I found that thelock was not closed.

Had I any right to take advantage of this accident, and open thebook? I have put the question since to some of my friends of bothsexes. The women all agree that I was perfectly justified,considering the serious interests that I had at stake, in takingany advantage of any book in the Major's house. The men differfrom this view, and declare that I ought to have put back thevolume in blue velvet unopened, carefully guarding myself fromany after-temptation to look at it again by locking the cupboarddoor. I dare say the men are right.

Being a woman, however, I opened the book without a moment'shesitation.

I turned over the pages until I came to the first blank leaf.Seeing that they were all blank leaves from this place to theend, I lifted the volume by the back, and, as a last measure ofprecaution, shook it so as to dislodge any loose papers or cardswhich might have escaped my notice between the leaves.

This time my patience was rewarded by a discovery whichindescribably irritated and distressed me.

A small photograph, mounted on a card, fell out of the book. Afirst glance showed me that it represented the portraits of twopersons.

One of the persons I recognized as my husband.

The other person was a woman.

Her face was entirely unknown to me. She was not young. Thepicture represented her seated on a chair, with my husbandstanding behind, and bending over her, holding one of her handsin his. The woman's face was hard-featured and ugly, with themarking lines of strong passions and resolute self-will plainlywritten on it. Still, ugly as she was, I felt a pang of jealousyas I noticed the familiarly affectionate action by which theartist (with the permission of his sitters, of course) hadconnected the two figures in a group. Eustace had briefly toldme, in the days of our courtship, that he had more than oncefancied himself to be in love before he met with me. Could thisvery unattractive woman have been one of the early objects of hisadmiration? Had she been near enough and dear enough to him to bephotographed with her hand in his? I looked and looked at theportraits until I could endure them no longer. Women are strangecreatures--mysteries even to themselves. I threw the photographfrom me into a corner of the cupboard. I was savagely angry withmy husband; I hated--yes, hated with all my heart and soul!--thewoman who had got his hand in hers--the unknown woman with theself-willed, hard-featured face.

All this time the lower shelf of the cupboard was still waitingto be looked over.

I knelt down to examine it, eager to clear my mind, if I could,of the degrading jealousy that had got possession of me.

Unfortunately, the lower shelf contained nothing but relics ofthe Major's military life, comprising his sword and pistols, hisepaulets, his sash, and other minor accouterments. None of theseobjects excited the slightest interest in me. My eyes wanderedback to the upper shelf; and, like the fool I was (there is nomilder word that can fitly describe me at that moment), I tookthe photograph out again, and enraged myself uselessly by anotherlook at it. This time I observed, what I had not noticed before,that there were some lines of writing (in a woman's hand) at theback of the portraits. The lines ran thus:

'To Major Fitz-David, with two vases. From his friends, S. and E.M."

Was one of those two vases the vase that had been broken? And wasthe change that I had noticed in Major Fitz-David's face producedby some past association in connection with it, which in some wayaffected me? It might or might not be so. I was little disposedto indulge in speculation on this topic while the far moreserious question of the initials confronted me on the back of thephotograph.

"S. and E. M.?" Those last two letters might stand for theinitials of my husband's name--his true name--Eustace Macallan.In this case the first letter ("S.") in all probability indicated_her_ name. What right had she to associate herself with him inthat manner? I considered a little--my memory exerted itself--Isuddenly called to mind that Eustace had sisters. He had spokenof them more than once in the time before our marriage. Had Ibeen mad enough to torture myself with jealousy of my husband'ssister? It might well be so; "S." might stand for his sister'sChristian name. I felt heartily ashamed of myself as this newview of the matter dawned on me. What a wrong I had done to themboth in my thoughts! I turned the photograph, sadly andpenitently, to examine the portraits again with a kinder andtruer appreciation of them.

I naturally looked now for a family likeness between the twofaces. There was no family likeness; on the contrary, they wereas unlike each other in form and expression as faces could be._Was_ she his sister, after all? I looked at her hands, asrepresented in the portrait. Her right hand was clasped byEustace; her left hand lay on her lap. On the third finger,distinctly visible, there was a wedding-ring. Were any of myhusband's sisters married? I had myself asked him the questionwhen he mentioned them to me, and I perfectly remembered that hehad replie d in the negative.

Was it possible that my first jealous instinct had led me to theright conclusion after all? If it had, what did the associationof the three initial letters mean? What did the wedding-ringmean? Good Heavens! was I looking at the portrait of a rival inmy husband's affections--and was that rival his Wife?

I threw the photograph from me with a cry of horror. For oneterrible moment I felt as if my reason was giving way. I don'tknow what would have happened, or what I should have done next,if my love for Eustace had not taken the uppermost place amongthe contending emotions that tortured me. That faithful lovesteadied my brain. That faithful love roused the revivinginfluences of my better and nobler sense. Was the man whom I hadenshrined in my heart of hearts capable of such base wickednessas the bare idea of his marriage to another woman implied? No!Mine was the baseness, mine the wickedness, in having even for amoment thought it of him!

I picked up the detestable photograph from the floor, and put itback in the book. I hastily closed the cupboard door, fetched thelibrary ladder, and set it against the book-case. My one idea nowwas the idea of taking refuge in employment of any sort from myown thoughts. I felt the hateful suspicion that had degraded mecoming back again in spite of my efforts to repel it. The books!the books! my only hope was to absorb myself, body and soul, inthe books.

I had one foot on the ladder, when I heard the door of the roomopen--the door which communicated with the hall.

I looked around, expecting to see the Major. I saw instead theMajor's future prima donna standing just inside the door, withher round eyes steadily fixed on me.

"I can stand a good deal," the girl began, coolly, "but I can'tstand _this_ any longer?"

"What is it that you can't stand any longer?" I asked.

"If you have been here a minute, you have been here two goodhours," she went on. "All by yourself in the Major's study. I amof a jealous disposition--I am. And I want to know what itmeans." She advanced a few steps nearer to me, with a heighteningcolor and a threatening look. "Is he going to bring _you_ out onthe stage?" she asked, sharply.

"Certainly not."

"He ain't in love with you, is he?"

Under other circumstances I might have told her to leave theroom. In my position at that critical moment the mere presence ofa human creature was a positive relief to me. Even this girl,with her coarse questions and her uncultivated manners, was awelcome intruder on my solitude: she offered me a refuge frommyself.

"Your question is not very civilly put," I said. "However, Iexcuse you. You are probably not aware that I am a marriedwoman."

"What has that got to do with it?" she retorted. "Married orsingle, it's all one to the Major. That brazen-faced hussy whocalls herself Lady Clarinda is married, and she sends himnosegays three times a week! Not that I care, mind you, about theold fool. But I've lost my situation at the railway, and I've gotmy own interests to look after, and I don't know what may happenif I let other women come between him and me. That's where theshoe pinches, don't you see? I'm not easy in my mind when I seehim leaving you mistress here to do just what you like. Nooffense! I speak out--I do. I want to know what you are about allby yourself in this room? How did you pick up with the Major? Inever heard him speak of you before to-day."

Under all the surface selfishness and coarseness of this strangegirl there was a certain frankness and freedom which pleaded inher favor--to my mind, at any rate. I answered frankly and freelyon my side.

"Major Fitz-David is an old friend of my husband's," I said, "andhe is kind to me for my husband's sake. He has given mepermission to look in this room--"

I stopped, at a loss how to describe my employment in terms whichshould tell her nothing, and which should at the same timesuccessfully set her distrust of me at rest.

"To look about in this room--for what?" she asked. Her eye fellon the library ladder, beside which I was still standing. "For abook?" she resumed.

"Yes," I said, taking the hint. "For a book."

"Haven't you found it yet?"

"No."

She looked hard at me, undisguisedly considering with herselfwhether I were or were not speaking the truth.

"You seem to be a good sort," she said, making up her mind atlast. "There's nothing stuck-up about you. I'll help you if Ican. I have rummaged among the books here over and over again,and I know more about them than you do. What book do you want?"

As she put that awkward question she noticed for the first timeLady Clarinda's nosegay lying on the side-table where the Majorhad left it. Instantly forgetting me and my book, this curiousgirl pounced like a fury on the flowers, and actually trampledthem under her feet!

"There!" she cried. "If I had Lady Clarinda here I'd serve her inthe same way."

"What will the Major say?" I asked.

"What do I care? Do you suppose I'm afraid of _him?_ Only lastweek I broke one of his fine gimcracks up there, and all throughLady Clarinda and her flowers!"

She pointed to the top of the book-case--to the empty space on itclose by the window. My heart gave a sudden bound as my eyes tookthe direction indicated by her finger. _She_ had broken the vase!Was the way to discovery about to reveal itself to me throughthis girl? Not a word would pass my lips; I could only look ather.

"Yes!" she said. "The thing stood there. He knows how I hate herflowers, and he put her nosegay in the vase out of my way. Therewas a woman's face painted on the china, and he told me it wasthe living image of _her_ face. It was no more like her than Iam. I was in such a rage that I up with the book I was reading atthe time and shied it at the painted face. Over the vase went,bless your heart, crash to the floor. Stop a bit! I wonderwhether _that's_ the book you have been looking after? Are youlike me? Do you like reading Trials?"

Trials? Had I heard her aright? Yes: she had said Trials.

I answered by an affirmative motion of my head. I was stillspeechless. The girl sauntered in her cool way to the fire-place,and, taking up the tongs, returned with them to the book-case.

"Here's where the book fell," she said--"in the space between thebook-case and the wall. I'll have it out in no time."

I waited without moving a muscle, without uttering a word.

She approached me with the tongs in one hand and with a plainlybound volume in the other.

"Is that the book?" she said. "Open it, and see."

I took the book from her.

"It is tremendously interesting," she went on. "I've read ittwice over--I have. Mind you, _I_ believe he did it, after all."

Did it? Did what? What was she talking about? I tried to put thequestion to her. I struggled--quite vainly--to say only thesewords: "What are you talking about?"

She seemed to lose all patience with me. She snatched the bookout of my hand, and opened it before me on the table by which wewere standing side by side.

"I declare, you're as helpless as a baby!" she said,contemptuously. "There! _Is_ that the book?"

I read the first lines on the title-page--

A COMPLETE REPORT OF THE TRIAL OF EUSTACE MACALLAN.

I stopped and looked up at her. She started back from me with ascream of terror. I looked down again at the title-page, and readthe next lines--

FOR THE ALLEGED POISONING OF HIS WIFE.

There, God's mercy remembered me. There the black blank of aswoon swallowed me up.