knows of the dead man, if she really knows anything at all, and will secure from her the wallet, which she has neither destroyed nor will destroy, I am sure."

This morning, then, he inquired of the servant who met him at the door, of Miss Percival's present occupation. She still slept. Would the maid awaken her, and say the Doctor waited? He entered the little parlor, and the servant went to do his bidding.

As fate would have it, the physician sat down in the chair Miss Percival had ⚫ occupied the evening before and opposite the draped window which had faced her. The morning light, the house faced east, you remember, poured into the room through the lace and silk hangings, and he was conscious of a darker square which broke the sunny stream at about the level of a standing man's eye. After a moment or two of visual annoyance, he rose and walked toward the obstruction, observed that it was a drawing pinned to the curtain, and removed it with the intention of putting it down on the table as he returned to his seat; but as he glanced at it carelessly something arrested his attention, and moving with unaccustomed alacrity toward the northern window, he raised the shade, lifted the sash, pushed open the blind and held the drawing up in the clear, morning light.

A varied stream of emotions played over his face as he looked at it. Admiration, wonder, perplexity were there and finally a curious mixture of amusement and shrewd analysis.

"Man proposes and God disposes," he said aloud, and turned to meet the eyes of the negro maid fastened upon him with a gaze quite new in his experience.

"Miss Percival is fas' asleep yit," she said, and without waiting an answer, beat a hasty retreat from the room.

With the drawing still in his hand, the physician crossed the passage, opened

Miss Percival's door, and entered her chamber.

The perfect order and beauty of arrangement in this chamber might have attracted him, but that he had seen the room before and knew Miss Percival's personal habits. What he looked at was the woman fast asleep on the bed. Miss Percival seemed dressed for the occasion. Between the white muslin bolster and her head was a little pillow of pink silk. Even in her sleep she recognized the fact that the white lawn would not tone with the unfortunate tans of her complexion. Her delicate profile seemed cut in ivory against the warm rose of the silk. Over the shoulder of her gown the braid of her heavy red hair was drawn and stretched downward on an eider down quilt of tan colored silk, a narrow rim of the rose lining of which was turned backward where it met the fold of the sheet. Though Doctor Hall had seen Miss Percival posed for her physician numbers of times in the past, he smiled now at the perfect color effect she had produced.

"By Jove!" he ejaculated under his breath. "Give me a thin woman and a plain for a pose!"

"Miss Percival!" he exclaimed aloud in his deepest and most commanding voice. "Miss Percival!"

on.

The lady breathed deeply and slept.

The lashes lay motionless against her faintly colored brown cheek, the long, shining braid rose regularly where it fell over her bosom, and stretched undisturbed down the whole length of the tall, thin form. Her hands remained as before, hidden under the cover.

The physician looked at her meditatively some seconds before speaking again. Then approaching the head of the bed, he leaned over her, shook her gently by the shoulders, calling near her ear:

"Miss Percival, my dear lady, wake up! Wake up!"

Only her eyelids quivered faintly, and when he released her she continued to breathe evenly as before. He turned

down the cover slightly to test her pulse, and the faint cedary odor of Le Grand's Violet de Parme rose from the handkerchief she held in her hand. Her pulse Her pulse was normal.

"Question of utter physical exhaustion," was his dictum, "not the result of the antalgic administered yesterday."

"Wonderful!" he said aloud, and after a moment more of contemplation he turned to go. Then the drawing which he had left on the foot of the bed, recalled his former course of reasoning. He picked it up, smiled, walked to the south window as he had formerly walked to the north, and held it again to the light.

As he stood there half turned from the bed, Miss Percival opened her eyes and looked at him. It was a full glance, clear and determined, and after she had taken him in she closed her eyes and continued to sleep as before.

The Doctor looked at the picture. A quiet observer with all his faculties alert would have seen that he recognized the face represented, but that the attitude was new to him; would have seen in his occasional quizzical glance toward Miss Percival that he would have liked to put the question as to the probability of its being an imaginary attitude suitable for the real man; and would at last have observed that he had deduced his conclusion, namely, that attitude and man were both real and that Miss Percival had made her drawing from life.

When the physician reached his conclusion he said, "Good!" stood irresolute a moment, swept his eyes over bureau, table and mantel, as if looking for something he did not expect to find; and then walked deliberately back to his sleeping patient, ran his hand promptly under the bolster, drew out the brown wallet quite as a matter of course, turned

back his coat and slipped it into his inside pocket, then moving briskly to the door he passed from it into the passage.

As he turned his back, Miss Percival opened her eyes as before and quietly followed his retreating figure as it disappeared from her room.

And now his careful hand was on the knob. He turned it softly, drew the door together with a steady, muscular action, and then released it. The bolt slipped noiselessly into place and simultaneously Miss Percival sat upright. She immediately lay down again with her ear against the solid wood work of her bed, the more readily to catch the vibrations of voices now heard in the passage. What she heard was of the most ordinary character; Doctor Hall merely directed Mary to come for him should Miss Percival awake.

A moment later the negro girl entered the room and at sight of the change in her mistress started visibly. A deep rose burned in Miss Percival's cheeks and her two triumphant eyes glowed like dark sapphires above them; her mouth, suddenly grown crimson, stood parted as if breathing were difficult.

"Mary," she said in her vibrant tone, "I wish to stay asleep all day. Send away everybody who comes here. Now go and tell Jane to prepare for me the very best of breakfasts.

The negro departed grinning.

"Jane, she chuckled to the cook," hit done wuk lak a charm. De doctor done gone off, an' she done sent me tuh git her breakfuss. You sen' her de bess you got, she say."

"He, he, he!" returned Jane, "You bet on Miss Percival to git um into trub. She gwine to fix up dat cote to suit hersef. Watch out whut I tell you 'bout dat, honey. It a mighty freezin' day when dey gits up head uh dat 'ooman. She hatter be clean fruz out, lack uh ole red headed fox, dat she do! He, he,

he!" With which eloquent reflection brought by past experience on her own account, Jane set on the waiter the daintiest breakfast in her repertoire, and Mary returned with it to her mistress.

Miss Percival was still sitting up in bed. When the waiter was placed on her knees and a wrap about her shoulders, instead of dismissing the girl as usual, she said:

"Mary, did you notice anything missing from the parlor, after the Doctor left?"

speaking. Finally, when Mary's credulity had had time to work an effect, Miss Percival continued:

"Doctor Hall's coachman is, I believe, called Jim? A friend of yours?" Mary giggled.

"I thought as much," said Miss Percival. "Very capable man, is he not?" Mary grinned.

"I would like to have Jim find out for me, today, while I am asleep, what goes on in town. If there is a preliminary hearing, if any one is accused of the

"Well, go and see if you find a drawing of mine pinned to the curtain of the east window," continued her mistress.

Mary went. Somehow she knew by Miss Percival's tone that Miss Percival knew that the drawing was no longer there; but she did not know that Miss Percival also knew that Mary also knew it. She presently returned, shaking her head.

"Well!" said her mistress with a circumflex accent, "I made a drawing at about two o'clock this morning and pinned it there."

She paused and sipped her tea in silence. Presently she spoke again.

"It was a very good likeness of a man who entered that window last night-and then backed out of it, because I frightened him." She uttered the word frightened with a second circumflex and drank up her tea before speaking again.

In the meantime Mary discovered that her feet were cold in her shoes, and changed her position uneasily.

"Doctor Hall," said Miss Percival speaking with deliberate intonation, "doubtless noticed the picture and removed it;" (she looked at Mary, but blacks cannot blush and Mary did not reply, though Miss Percival waited) "for a purpose," she added.

For several minutes thereafter she munched her buttered toast without

takes in the matter and what he does in general today. Now you may take my breakfast away, and have Jane make me a sanga in the large pitcher; bring me that on a tray with some raspberries and cakes. When you have brought them and put them near me, you may leave the room."

Mary went out at once. Stumbling into the kitchen and setting down the things with a clatter she observed to the astonished cook:

"Miss Percival 'pears to be pow'ful anxious 'bout dat doctor."

"Lor, chile," returned Jane, "you plum skert me comin' in lack· dat, you sho' did."

con

"Whut sot me tuh studyin',' tinued Mary, "is dat she sho does seem pow'ful kuyus about 'im. She want to diskiver ebry thing whut he do tuh day. She say to me, 'you g'long an' fin' out whut he am about, while I am asleep.' I bet she jess wanter 'cuse him so she can git outen it herself. I 'low she know summat about it herse'f."

"Lor, chile, is dat all de sense you's got?" retorted the astute Jane. "She de bess of frien's wid dat Doctor Hall. She 'pen's 'pon him to git her outen dis here bizness. She proud es lucingfer, an' she doan wanter go down tuh dat cote house wid de niggers en de po' white trash. So she made up her min' not to wake up twell de fuss done ober. He,

he, he! She precisely lack de ole red fox, she am.'

"Dare's somethin' else whut mak me oneasy, Jane," continued the maid, unabashed by the cook's incredulity. "Dis morning, when I went in de front room, I seed a pictur' ub Mr. Ned pinned tuh de cuttin ob de front winder. It war dat kuyus it make me git Icole in mer shoes. When de doctor done come I ax him in dat room while I done fix up Miss Percival. When I come back dat pictur' war gone fum its place an' Doctor Hall war a-studin' it so hard dat he nuveh knowed I war dar twell I git right up on 'im."

"Well, pon my wud," put in Jane, "you air chicken livered!"

Too much absorbed in her own reflections to retort, Mary continued:

"He walk off den to Miss Percival's room wid dat picture' in his han', and when he come outen dar, he had it yit. He rolt it up tight when he war tellin' me tuh sen' fur him, an' tuck it outen de house in his han'."

"Lor, chile," retorted Jane with increasing curiosity but feigned contempt, "Cose he gwine to sen' it back when he done look at it good."

"Well, but," continued Mary, "when I war waitin' on Miss Percival she say to me, 'Go see whut dat man done stole outen my front room,' an' I went an' look an' come back an' say, ''Pears lack tuh me he done lef' ebry thing in place.' An' den she say:" (Mary sank her voice to a lugubrious whisper) 'Las' night while I war a-settin' in dat chur a man come in tru de front winder. When he saw me he got skert an' runned outen de house. Den I made a likeness of him an' I pinned it to de cuttin'. Go see ef de Doctor done tuck it away.'

"It war a pictur' ob Ned Fairman?" said Jane.

"A bery good pictur' uh him, but he 'peared lack he war skert outen his min'," answered Mary.

"I wunner,"mused Jane, "I wunner whut dat fool war a-doin' in dis house. 'Pears lack he gwine tuh git a gif' fer stealin' fum his gran'dad. Lemme tell you, Mary," she continued after a pause of some length, "You go ober to Calline's an' call Jim up ober de 'phone, an' tell him tuh come roun' tuh de back gate an' bring you anythin' kuyus he kin' fine tuh day."

Then as Mary ran out of the back gate she ran after her calling, for the benefit of the neighbors, "Hole on, gal, doan tell Jim anythin' kuyus 'bout me!"

"Jane mos' as good as Miss Percival, when it come tuh gitten up a mystryfication," mused Mary as she shuffled along in the sun.

The short southern twilight hung in the air when Jim appeared at Miss Percival's back gate and held a consultation with his dusky mate, transfered his “summat kuyus" to Mary's keeping, and returned. through the gloaming to his master's house. Then Mary made her way to her mistress' chamber and lighted the evening lamp.

That done she dusted ostentatiously, as one who has important matters to mind. Next she cleared the table and brought fresh water, waiting for Miss Percival to speak.

Finally that lady, who had been watching her with serious eyes but a smiling heart, said:

"Well?"

And Mary turned about with unfeigned delight that her probation was over and began breathlessly to relate:

"Jim done fine out a lot. Jim de bestest man I ebber seed. Jim am de smartest nigger in dis eend ub de hull worl'."

Miss Percival turned on her pillow and fixed on the girl one of those blue glances full of light that at times transformed her face.

"Jim am cute," continued the girl. "Jim bin a-watchin' out fur all dat's kuyus fur de las' two days. In fac' Jim

know ebrythin' whut done happen sense the killin'."

Miss Percival closed her eyes and the color left her cheeks. She did not move again, but Mary was too full of her story to note the effect of the single murderous word.

"Dey done 'rested Mr. Ned Fairman. You knows Mr. Ned whut come home fum de college two year ago, an' won't do no wuk, jes' spen' his time a-loafin' an' a-puttin' on ahs. En dey had 'im up at de co't'ouse 'fo' dinner tuh day. En Mr. Ned he say he doan know nuthin' 'bout it nuther. En den dey fin' out fum ole Miss Fairman's ole cullud 'ooman, dat Mr. Ned done git all dem tools whut wus in dat barskit outen de back clawsot at the house de evenin' buffo', an den dey done fin' out fum ole Mars Claus, dat Mr. Ned war seed by hisse'f a-standin' in de road on Sund'y evenin' late a-talkin' to a man whut Mars Claus nebber seed buffo'. En den dey done fin' out dat dat pistol whut dey done fin' in yo schoolrum war Mr. Ned's own new pistol whut he done fotched home de las' time he come back. En den Jim say, dey done axed de Doctor whut he thinks about it, an' de Doctor done git up en say, he had sebbral weighty reasons fur his 'pinion, an' dat he'd ruther not prujerdice de co't, but dat he know'd fur a fac' dat Mr. Ned Fairman done been in dis house de night buffo'. An' den he ups an' unrolt dat pictur' whut he tuk outen dis house dis mornin' en he spread it out on de table, en he say: 'Now, gemmen, jes' look a-thar, an' when you hab look yo fill, jes' look at de prizner.' An' dey did. En den de Doctor ups en tells um all how he come by dat pictur' dis mornin', an' how ez you wus yit asleepin' fum de op'yit. He say he dunno whut you done wid de pus-"

"Mary?" said her mistress in a startled tone, "Mary?"

"Yessum," continued the girl, "yes

sum, he done said he dunno whut you done done wid de pus, but he sposen you kin tell whut buccome uv it jes' es soon's you done wuk up. En den he sot down. En dey say: 'De present ev'dence is suffishint fur de harrers.' En den dey lock up Mr. Ned twell you done wuk up an' tell all you knows 'bout dat pictur' en dat pus. An', an'—"

Miss Percival looked at Mary steadily. The look was one that had brought her fame and place. Before it guilty school girls were wont to tremble and confess; before it negroes and petty thieves were abashed. Before that look green grocers, water men, agents, paper hangers, boarding house keepers and even the board of trustees and the president of the faculty had gone down. Yet, in spite of the terror that it caused, the universal consternation that it invariably wrought, I doubt if Miss Percival knew what brought these things about. It was the look of mind minus matter; the glance of reason freed from affection and desire, fearless understanding unmixed with emotion of any kind.

"An', an'-" said Mary, "an', an', I clare fo' Gawd, Miss Percival, dat's all I knows.

There was a long pause. Miss Percival had almost made up her mind to let her tired eyelids drop, with the bottom fact unelicited, when Mary suddenly threw her apron over her head and cried out:

"Jim tole me nuvuh tuh tell you fur lessin' a five dollar bill -- but I's er bleeged tuh tell de truf!"

"Mary," said her mistress, in a tone of tender regret, "how wicked you must think me not to tell me that at once. Have I ever refused you money, Mary, when you asked it of me or needed it for anything?"

The voice went to the heart, so full was it of the pain that truth must find in falsehood, as if the speaker wept for all the sins of the world.