"You know that he was convicted upon the testimony of Lucian Davlin and another?"

"Yes."

"Do you recall the name of the man who was wounded, so said the jury, by Mr. Girard?"

Up sprang Claire, her eyes blazing. "Madeline," she cried, "I see what you are coming at. You have got into your head the ridiculous idea that this man Percy and Edward Percy are the same. It is absurd!"

"Why?"

"Because--because it _is_!" Then, as if the matter were quite settled, "why, he must have been in Europe at the time."

"Claire, you are getting angry with me, and I have a long story to tell you. But there is an easy way to settle this matter. Are you willing to let me take the picture you have of Edward Percy, and accompany me into Olive's presence while I ask her if she ever saw the original?"

Nothing else could have so effectually quenched Claire's wrath. She saw that Madeline had some strong reason for her strange words.

Sitting down with paling cheeks and trembling limbs, she thought. Then looking across at Madeline, she said, wearily:

"I can't understand you at all, Madeline. It never once occurred to me to connect the man who brought all that trouble upon poor Philip with my Edward Percy. It does not seem possible that they could be the same. I had supposed the other Percy to be a man like--like Davlin."

"My dear, did you ever see Davlin?"

"No."

"And you have fancied him a sort of handsome horse jockey, and this Percy one of the same brotherhood?"

"Perhaps;" smiling a little.

"Claire, Lucian Davlin is an Apollo in person, a courtier in manner, and a Mephistopheles at heart. And Percy is an abridgement of Davlin."

"I can't see," said Claire, rather frostily, "even if Edward Percy is the man who was wounded by some unknown person five years ago, why he must of necessity be a villain and a deceiver. It would be very, very unpleasant, of course, to find that such were the case. But I could not hate Edward Percy for that, even if the fact must separate us."

"Claire, Edward Percy is not only the man who helped send your sister's husband to prison, but he is a villain doubly perjured; a deceiver, a betrayer. If justice ever gets her due he will end his days in the penitentiary."

Then, seeing that Claire was about to speak: "Let me finish; now you shall have your proof."

She recounted all there was to tell, from the day when Claire showed her the picture and she distrusted the face, to the present moment.

Claire Keith listened in immovable silence; not a muscle quivered. For many minutes after Madeline had finished her recital, she sat staring straight before her, like a statue. At length she arose and crossed to the door, drew back the bolt with a steady hand, put up a warning finger, and said, in a voice like frozen silver: "Wait;" then disappeared.

Madeline scarcely had time to wonder what she meant, before Claire was back, standing before her, calm and cold as an iceberg. She held in her hand the picture of Edward Percy, with the face turned away, and this she extended to Madeline.

"It is best that we make no mistakes," she said, quietly; "go show that to Olive. Don't tell her how it came into your possession; ask her if it is he. Then come back to me."

"Shall I tell her--" began Madeline.

"Tell her nothing until you have brought me back the picture."

She pushed her toward the door.

Madeline walked down-stairs, sorely puzzled, but thinking fast. "She fights these facts bravely," she muttered. "Does she doubt, I wonder?"

Olive was sitting before the window, watching the movements of John, the gardener, when Madeline entered the parlor. Going straight to her, she placed the picture in her hand, and said:

"Do you know that face?"

Olive Girard gave a startled cry.

"Madeline, how did you come by this?"

"No matter," calmly; "do you know the picture?"

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

"The man who sent my husband to prison--Percy."

Madeline took the picture from her hand. "Are you sure?"

"I could swear to the face after these five years."

"Thank you, Olive. Now be patient; I must go back to my room for a little while. Don't ask me any questions yet. When I come down I will tell you how I obtained this, and why I have talked to you so much of this man."

Madeline walked out of the room, leaving Olive staring after her in bewilderment.

Claire was sitting in the same attitude as when she left her. "Well?"

she said, raising her eyes.

"She recognized it immediately. She would swear that it is the man who sent her husband to prison."

"Thank you, dear."

Claire took the picture from her hands, and without once glancing at it, she bent forward and dropped it into the grate.

Madeline threw herself on her knees at the girl's side. "Oh, Claire, Claire! I have made you miserable; forgive me."

"What for? You have done me a great service. Do you think I want that man's love?"

"But Claire--"

"I loved an ideal; that ideal, see;" pointing to the grate. "Do you think I shall cry after a pinch of ashes?" looking her full in the face. Then, with a shrug of annoyance. "You have roused poor Olive's curiosity; she must hear of this miserable discovery of ours, or yours--bah," stamping her foot angrily, "my pride is hurt more than my heart!"

"Your pride need not suffer more than it does already, Claire. You have seen me humbled to the dust; see me so still; and surely it won't be so very bitter to think that poor Madeline knows that your sunny life has suffered one little shadow. I will tell Olive all I know of Edward Percy, save that you have ever seen him. The knowledge that he has crossed your path can in no way benefit her, or aid us in unmasking him. Evidently, he does not know that you are in any way connected with the fortunes of Philip Girard. Let this rest between us. If this plan suits you, perhaps I had better go and tell my story to Olive. I have twice postponed a revelation to-day."

[Illustration: "She bent forward, and dropped it into the grate."--page 200.]

"The plan does suit me. Many, many thanks, dear Madeline," said Claire, calmly and gently. "And now, as I must, of course, be supposed to first hear this story after it has been told to Olive, or at that time, I would prefer being present when you enlighten her. Let us dress for dinner, go down together, and--I leave the rest to your tact."

Madeline could readily comprehend that it would be easier for Claire to sit, with Olive, a listener, than to wait and hear the story from the lips of her sister. If it were left to Olive to tell, Claire's face might betray her heart, perhaps. But now, hearing it from Madeline, and with Olive, whose surprise and dismay at the revelation would quite effectually cover up any signs of emotion Claire might manifest, the thing did not appear so difficult.