"If so, who's the other mourner?" inquired the humorous policeman.

"And what's she doin' here?"

"She's--she's"--and then Matilda plunged blindly at a lie--"she's my sister." And having started, she went on: "My sister Angelica, who lives in Syracuse. She's come to visit me awhile."

The officer grinned. "Well, Matilda and Angelica, we'll give you a chance to tell that to the lieutenant. Come on."

"But I tell you I'm Matilda Simpson!" cried Matilda. She was now thinking solely of her own imminent disgrace. Inspiration came to her.

"You say you talked to William, the coachman. He'll tell you who I am.

There's the bell--ring for him!"

The officer scratched his chin. Then he eyed his co-laborer meditatively.

"Not a bad idea, Bill. There's a chance she may be on the level, and there'd be h.e.l.l to pay at headquarters if we got in bad with any of these swells. No harm tryin'."

He pressed a big thumb against the bell Matilda had indicated.

They all sat down, the two officers' oilskins guttering water all over Mrs. De Peyster's Kirmanshah rug and parquet floor. But Mrs. De Peyster was unconscious of this deluge. She gave Matilda a glance of reproachful dismay; then she edged into the dimmest corner of the dusky room and turned her chair away from the door through which this new disaster was about to stalk in upon her, and unnoticed drew down her veil.

There was a long, sickening wait. Plainly William had gone to bed, and had to dress before he could answer the bell.

At length, however, William appeared. He started at sight of the four figures; then his gaze fastened on Matilda and grew hard. Mrs. De Peyster tried to collapse within herself.

"Friend," said the officer, "here's a lady as says she's Matilda Simpson, Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper. How about it?"

"She is," William affirmed coldly.

"The devil!" said the officer; and then in a low voice apart to the other: "Lucky we didn't go no further--hey, Bill?" And again to William: "Miss Simpson says this other lady is her sister, visitin'

her from Syracuse. Can you identify her?"

William did not alter a line in his face.

"Miss Simpson has a sister living near Syracuse. I have never seen her. I cannot identify her."

"H'm," said the officer.

"Is that all?" asked William.

"Yes, that'll do. Thanks."

With a cold blighting glare at Matilda, William withdrew.

"Well, ladies," said the officer with ingratiating pleasantness, "I'm mighty glad it's all right. If you have occasion, Miss Simpson, to speak o' this here little incident to Mrs. De Peyster when she gets back from Europe, just explain it as due to over-zealousness, if you don't mind--desire to safeguard her interests. D'you get me?

Headquarters is awful sensitive to kicks from you rich people; and the boss comes down on you like a ton o' bricks. It'll be mighty kind o'

you. Good-night. Don't bother to come down with us. I noticed it was a spring lock. We can let ourselves out."

When the two policemen were out of the room, Mrs. De Peyster and Matilda collapsed into each others' arms and their bodies sank limply forward from their chairs upon the dining-table. "Matilda, what an escape!" shivered Mrs. De Peyster; and she lay there, gathering breath, regathering strength, regathering poise, while the officers'

steps grew dimmer and more dim. She was palpitant, yet able to think.

Certainly it had been a narrow escape. But that danger was now over.

There now remained only the feat of getting into her room, unnoticed by Jack. This they could manage when they were certain that Jack and Mary were asleep.

Relief, hope, courage once more began to rise within her.

Then suddenly she sat upright. Footsteps were sounding below--growing nearer--heavy footsteps--what sounded like more than two pairs of footsteps. She sat as one palsied; and before she could recover strength or faculties, there in the doorway were the two policemen.

And with them was a gentleman in a cap and tan summer overcoat b.u.t.toned to the chin.

The gentleman was the Reverend Mr. Pyecroft; and the Mr. Pyecroft they had first seen: bland, oh, so bland, with that odd, elderish look of his.

"Met him goin' down the servants' steps as we were goin' out, and he asked us--" the officer was beginning.

But Mr. Pyecroft was already crossing toward Matilda, smiling affectionately.

"My dear Matilda!" He kissed her upon the cheek. "I arrived in New York very unexpectedly less than half an hour ago, and could not delay coming to see you. How are you, sister?"

"Wha--what?" stammered Matilda.

Mr. Pyecroft with his bland affectionate smile crossed to Mrs. De Peyster, slipped an arm across her shoulders and kissed her veil somewhere about the forehead. "And how are you, dear sister?" he inquired with deep concern.

Mrs. De Peyster gasped and stiffened.

"You ladies don't seem very glad to see him," put in the officer.

"When we told him about you two bein' sisters, he said he was your brother. Is he?"

"Of course I am," Mr. Pyecroft answered pleasantly. "They weren't expecting me; therefore this very natural surprise which you observe.

Of course, I am your brother, am I not?"--patting Mrs. De Peyster's arm with the appearance of affection, and then closing on it warningly.

Mrs. De Peyster nodded her head.

"Matilda," turning to her, in frank fraternal fashion, "you might tell these officers that I am not only your brother, but in fact the only brother you have. That is true, isn't it, sister?"

"Yes," gulped Matilda.

"Well," said the officer, "since everything is all right, we'll be leavin' you. But, believe me, this is certainly some sudden family reunion."

When they had gone Mr. Pyecroft calmly removed cap and overcoat and stood forth in his clericals. Again he wore the youngish face of their interview of an hour before. Mrs. De Peyster watched him in sickening fear. What was he going to do? Surely he must now know her ident.i.ty!

He smiled at them amiably.

"Well, my dears, so you tried to give me the slip. I rather thought you'd bear watching, so I followed you. And when I saw the officers come out without you I knew you had successfully entertained them with some sort of plausible explanation."

His gaze fixed on Matilda. "So, my dear sister, you're really the housekeeper here." He shook his head chidingly. "And the usual crook of a housekeeper, eh--trying to make a safe clean-up while her mistress is away. You're deeper than I thought, Matilda. I understand the whole affair now. You and our sister Angelica had already been planning some kind of a game similar to the one I suggested. I just happened to think of the same thing. I don't blame you a lot for not wanting to take me into the game; it was quite natural for you to want all there is in it for yourselves. Not the least hard feeling in the world, my dears. But, of course,"--apologetically,--"you could hardly expect me to give up a rich thing like this, could you?"

His easy, familiar, ironic talk had brought Mrs. De Peyster one large item of relief. Evidently he didn't suspect who she was--yet.

"What are you going to do?" she managed to ask.

"Stay right here with you, my sisters, and in due time we'll go ahead with our game as per previous specifications." He surveyed the high, paneled dining-room, sumptuous, distinguished even in the semi-dusk.

"Cozy little flat, eh, my dears?"

Suddenly that wide mouth of his slipped up to one side, and he laughed in exultant, impish glee.