"Bad as the man is, I can see but one motive that could induce even him to swear away the liberty, almost the life, of a man who never wronged him."

"Still, he did it," said Olive, with a weary sigh.

"True; and he did it for a motive."

"And that motive--"

"Was the strongest instinct of the human race."

"What?" eagerly.

"Self-preservation."

Olive started up with a half cry. "Madeline, in heaven's name, _what_ do you mean!"

"That Lucian Davlin threw suspicion upon the innocent to screen the guilty," said the girl, in a low, firm tone.

"And the guilty one, then?"

"Himself. Do you think him too good for it?" sneeringly.

"No, no! oh, no! But this I had never thought of--yet it may be true."

She fell into deep thought; after a time she started up. "I must consult a detective immediately," she said.

"You must do no such thing," cried Madeline, springing to her feet; "why did not the detectives find this out before? Because they have not my reasons for hunting that man down. _I_ found this clue, if it be one. I claim it; it is my right, and I will have it. If he is to be undone, it shall be by my hands. I swear it!"

They faced each other in silence.

Slowly Olive recalled to her countenance and voice its usual sweet calm, and then seated herself and talked long and earnestly with Madeline.

The little bronze clock on the mantel was on the stroke of two when the conference ended, and Madeline retired to her own room, but not to sleep. She sat and thought until the dawn shone in at her window.

One link was missing from the chain; no motive had been discovered for an attack on Percy by Davlin.

"But I will find it," she muttered. Then, as a new thought occurred to her, she caught her breath. "Claire's lover is named Percy; can it be the same? Why did not this occur to me sooner? Why did I not ask for his first name, and a description of him? If this man and Edward Percy should be one and the same! Pshaw! the name is not an uncommon one, and it may be only a coincidence. But your face is a bad one, Edward Percy, and I shall know it when I see it again."

The sun was not high in the heavens ere Madeline was astir, for her nature was such that strong excitement rendered rest impossible.

Moving impatiently about the grounds, she saw a familiar form approaching through the shrubbery, and hastened to meet it.

The black visage of Henry beamed with satisfaction as he made a hurried obeisance and placed in her hand a letter, saying:

"Master was preparing for a two days' journey when this letter came.

He threw it into his desk, and bade me lock it, and bring him the key.

His back was turned, and I took the letter before I locked the desk.

It was a long one, and from _her_; I thought you might want to see it."

"Right, Henry," said the girl, quietly, as she opened the letter. "You will wait for it?"

"Yes, miss; it must not be missing when he comes."

"Certainly not."

She returned to the letter, and this is what she read:

OAKLEY, October 11.

LUCIAN, _Mon Brave_:

I am in a fine predicament--have made a startling discovery.

Mr. A----has been sick, and the mischief is to pay; and his sickness has brought some ugly facts to light.

The old man is _not_ the sole proprietor of the Oakley wealth. That girl who ran away so mysteriously, and has never been heard of, will inherit at his death. He can bequeath his widow nothing. Oh, to know where that girl is!

If she is alive, my work is useless, my time is wasted. I think the old chap must have driven her to desperation, for he raved in his delirium of her and her words at parting.

They must have been "searchers."

Well, to add to the general interest, Miss Arthur, aged fifty or so, is here. She is a juvenile old maid, who has a fortune in her own right, and so must be cultivated. She dresses like a sixteen-year-old, and talks like a fool, principally about a certain admirer, a "blonde demi-god"--her words--named Percy.

Something must be done: things must be talked over. Come down and make love to Miss Arthur. _Her_ money is not entailed.

Bring me some Periques and a box of Alexis gloves--you know the number. Yours in disgust,

CORA MME. ARTHUR.

Madeline dropped the letter, and stood amazed. What did it mean? "Cora _Mme._ Arthur!"

Henry stooped for the letter, and the act recalled her to herself. She thanked him for the service he had done her; told him of her intended departure; gave him some last instructions, and dismissed him with a kind good-by.

[Illustration: "I took the letter before I locked the desk."--page 127.]

"It is time to act," she muttered. "Good heavens! the audacity of that man and woman! She is married to my step-father, if that letter does not lie; has married him for money, and is baffled there. She hoped to become _his widow_, aha! The plot thickens, indeed! Goodness! what a household! That bad old man, the still viler woman, dangerous Lucian Davlin, and that funny, youthful, cross, 'conceited spinster,' Ellen Arthur, who has a lover, and his name is--heaven save us--Percy! That name _will_ mix itself up with my fate web, and why? Percy beloved of Claire; Percy who brought Philip Girard to his doom; Percy the lover of a rich old maid, are ye one and the same? Percy! Percy! Percy! I must cultivate the Percys at any cost."

She turned and entered the house, her head bent, thinking, thinking, thinking.

CHAPTER XII.

A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD.

Less than a week after the events last related, and a family group surrounds the lunch table in the newly furnished morning room of Oakley.

The fair and fascinating Mrs. Torrance had accomplished the purpose for which she came to Bellair.

Truly had she said, "There is no fool like an old fool;" for John Arthur had been an easy victim. He had lost no time with his wooing, and so, a little less than two months from the day the fair widow came to Bellair, saw her mistress of John Arthur's household.

A bridal tour was not to her taste, much to the delight of the bridegroom. So they set about refitting some of the fine old rooms of the mansion, Cora having declared that they were too gloomy to be inhabitable.