He was sorry for the beautiful, haughty heiress, to whom this terrible news would be a great shock; he was sorry for Rex, he had grown so warmly attached to him of late, but he felt still more sorry for the fair child-bride, toward whom he felt such a yearning, sympathetic pity. The great bell in the tower slowly pealed the hour of eight, with a dull, heavy clang, and he suddenly realized what was to be done must be done at once. "I must send for both Rex and Pluma," he said, laying his hands on the beautiful, bowed head; "but, if it will comfort you to be unobserved during the interview, you shall have your wish." He motioned her to one of the curtained recesses, and placed her in an easy-chair. He saw she was trembling violently. It was a hard ordeal for him to go through, but there was no alternative. He touched the bell with a shaking hand, thrusting the certificate and paper into his desk. "Summon my daughter Pluma to me at once," he said to the servant who answered the summons, "and bid Mr. Lyon come to me here within half an hour." He saw the man held a letter in his hand. "If you please, sir," said the man, "as I was coming to answer your bell I met John Brooks, your overseer, in the hall below. A stranger was with him, who requested me to give you this without delay." Basil Hurlhurst broke open the seal. There were but a few penciled words, which ran as follows: "MR. HURLHURST,--Will you kindly grant me an immediate interview? I shall detain you but a few moments. "Yours, hastily, "HARVEY TUDOR, "Of Tudor, Peck & Co, Detectives, Baltimore." The man never forgot the cry that came from his master's lips as he read those brief words. "Yes, tell him to come up at once," he cried; "I will see him here." He forgot the message he had sent for Pluma and Rex--forgot the shrinking, timid little figure in the shadowy drapery of the curtains--even the gay hum of the voices down below, and the strains of music, or that the fatal marriage moment was drawing near. He was wondering if the detective's visit brought him a gleam of hope. Surely he could have no other object in calling so hurriedly on this night above all other nights. A decanter of wine always sat on the study table. He turned toward it now with feverish impatience, poured out a full glass with his nervous fingers, and drained it at a single draught. A moment later the detective and John Brooks, looking pale and considerably excited, were ushered into the study. For a single instant the master of Whitestone Hall glanced into the detective's keen gray eyes for one ray of hope, as he silently grasped his extended hand. "I see we are alone," said Mr. Tudor, glancing hurriedly around the room--"we three, I mean," he added. Suddenly Basil Hurlhurst thought of the young girl, quite hidden from view.