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all other women seem as shadows. among whom she stood out as the only reality. And this, remember, was in the face of such a tragedy as we had just witnessed—in fact, in our case, it might be said that we had both taken part in it.

When the maid had gone she turned to me with a sigh.

“I thought I'd better tell you this alone,” she said. “I haven’t said anything about it to anyone—perhaps I was wrong, but it was before a first night and I didn’t want to worry anyone. I paid no particular attention to them, myself, because there are all sorts of cranks and nuts in the world, and in this business we see more than the usual assortment, you know.”

“Didn’t pay any particular attention to what, Miss Sargent?” I asked.

She laughed shortly. “Oh, I forgot, of course,” she colored a little, because the fact of the matter was that while she was speaking I could not take my eyes off hers and she, on her part, I was impelled to believe, had let hers rest on mine just a trifle longer than is customary under such circumstances. Of course, I might have been mistaken . . . but it was a marvelous moment, just the same, despite the gruesome business that drew us together.

“I forgot,” she repeated, and opening up a drawer of her dressing table she took out several sheets of paper. These she handed to me, and I knew what they were