Arrived at the agency, she was at once ushered into the presence of Mr. Barnes.

"Well," said she, scarcely waiting to be seated, "what have you found out?"

"I have learned everything," said Mr. Barnes, without any show of feeling.

"You have? Well, go on. Why don't you tell me?" Madame was very impatient, but the detective was in no hurry.

"I have known what I have learned for over a week, Madame Medjora,"

said he slowly, "and during that time I have hesitated to send for you. Even now, when you are here, I am not sure that I shall be doing the right thing to give you any information upon this subject, without first communicating with your husband."

"Ah! I see," said Madame, with a sneer, "you think he would pay you better than I. You are mistaken. I have plenty of money. My own money.

What is your price?"

Mr. Barnes arose from his seat, in anger, but perfectly calm outwardly. As deferentially as though he were addressing a queen, he bowed and said:

"Madame, pardon me, but be kind enough to consider our interview at an end."

"What do you mean? You wish me to go?"

"Precisely, Madame. That is my wish."

"But you have not yet told me--ah! I see! I have made a mistake. But you will pardon me, Mr. Barnes. I did not know. How could I? I judged you by what I have heard of detectives. But you are different. I see that now, and I ask your forgiveness. You will forget my stupid words, will you?" She extended her hand cordially, and appeared truly regretful. Mr. Barnes yielded to her persuasive influence, and sat down again.

"Madame Medjora, I do not fully comprehend your motives in this matter. That is why I hesitate to speak." Mr. Barnes paused a moment.

"Suppose you answer one or two questions. Will you?"

"Certainly! Ask me what you please."

"Very well, Madame! You married Dr. Medjora after his trial for murder. At that time he had little money. Am I right, then, in concluding that you married him because you loved him?"

"I loved him with my whole soul!"

"And now, do you love him as well now?" Mr. Barnes scrutinized her closely, lest her words should belie her real feeling. But her answer was sincere.

"I love him more now than I ever did. He is all the world to me!"

"Ah! I see!" Mr. Barnes communed with himself for a brief moment, then suddenly asked: "You have had no children, I believe?" Madame grew slightly paler, and answered in a low tone:

"None!"

"Just so! Now then, Madame, you of course recall the trial. It was more than hinted at that time that the Doctor had a child by his first wife. Did he ever tell you the truth about that?"

"Never!"

"Suppose that he had done so, and had confided to you the fact that rumor was right, and that there was a child. Understand I am only supposing a case! But if so, what would you have done?"

"I would have taken the little one, my husband's child, and I would have cherished it for its father's sake!"

This was a deliberate lie, but Madame uttered the words in tones of great sincerity. She was a very shrewd woman, and half-suspecting the object of the detective's questioning, did not hesitate to tell this falsehood in order to gain her own end. She succeeded, too, for after a few moments more, Mr. Barnes said:

"After all, Madame Medjora, I am merely a detective, and it is my business to take commissions such as you have intrusted to me, and work them out. I will make my report to you. With the letter which you gave me it was easy enough to make a start. I found the writer, Matilda Grath, and a particularly unprepossessing old hag she is. As is readily seen by her letter, she is ignorant of even common-school knowledge. She is simply a rough product of her surroundings, and is as untutored as when she was born. But she had a younger sister, Margaret, who was very different. This Margaret was a very attractive girl, and having some ambition, attended school until she was fairly well educated. This her elder sisters called "putting on airs" and "flyin' in the face of the Lord, tryin' to know more 'n her elders."

Margaret also had numerous beaux, and this was another source of irritation to her sisters. Finally there came a young man to the neighborhood, and in the language of the people thereabout, Margaret "set her cap" for him. However, he did not marry her, but after he had left the vicinity, Margaret went to Boston, where she remained several months. When she returned she brought a baby back with her. That baby was Leon."

"Then he was her child?"

"The gossips said so, but there is no doubt in my mind that he was not. He was the child of the man to whom she had given her heart, but the mother was his lawful wife."

"Then why was the baby given to Margaret Grath?"

"Because the mother died, and the father was tried for murdering her!"

"My G.o.d! You mean that----"

"I mean that Leon's father is your husband, Dr. Medjora!"

"Impossible!" Madame wished to disbelieve exactly what she had always suspected to be the truth.

"What I tell you is fact. I never do anything by halves. In the first place I had a hint of the truth from your own suspicions. You of course had little to go on, but you loved your husband, and when a jealous eye watches the relation between the beloved one and another, it will see much. I had no doubt that you had taken your idea from your observation of the love which the Doctor bestowed upon his _protege_. Next I noted the coincidence of the dates. Margaret Grath appeared with the child a very few months prior to the death of Mabel Sloane. But I obtained substantial proofs."

"What are they?"

"Matilda Grath is an avaricious old woman. Her letter was in the nature of blackmail. She did not actually know that the Doctor is the boy's father, but she adopted that idea merely from the fact that he appeared upon the scene as soon as the guardian died. Then at the auction, it appears that there was a squabble over the possession of a collie dog, and the Doctor settled the dispute by purchasing the animal, and presenting it to Leon."

"Oh! He did that?" Madame was inwardly incensed, but she quickly suppressed any expression of her emotion.

"Yes! Old Miss Grath thought this was 'queer.' Then when she subsequently learned, what she did not at first know, that Leon had been taken into the Doctor's home, her doubts vanished. This accounts for her allusion to the Doctor in the letter, and the reason why she did not write again, was that she had no proof with which to substantiate her suspicions. I inst.i.tuted a search, however, and unearthed a package of old letters in a worm eaten writing-desk, upon which no bid had been offered at the auction, so that it had been thrown into the waste bin in the barn. Among these I found two, which were from the Doctor, alluding to the boy, and also a photograph of himself sent at the earnest solicitation of Margaret Grath, as one letter explains. I suppose he thought that this was the least repayment he could make for a lifelong sacrifice."

"You have those letters?" asked Madame, with some anxiety.

"I have them here," answered the detective. "Do you wish them?"

"I do!"

"I will give them to you upon one condition,--that you give them to your husband. They are perhaps more valuable to Leon, as the only evidence which would prove that he is the Doctor's son. But as the Doctor has taken him into his house, it is evident that he means to provide for him."

"I will accept your terms. My husband shall know what you have told me, and I will give him the letters to-night."

"With that understanding, I give them into your custody."

He handed a packet to Madame, who quickly placed it in her hand-satchel. Then she arose to depart. Handing him a check already signed she said:

"Please fill in the amount of my indebtedness to you."

Mr. Barnes took the check, wrote "five hundred dollars" on the proper line, and handed it back to Madame Medjora.

"Will that be satisfactory?" he asked.

"Quite!" she answered shortly, and left the office. Having accomplished her purpose she had no further need to a.s.sume a friendliness which she did not feel.