“You see the plight I am in—you will forgive my not rising, Mr. Darrell,” she said, referring to her lap full of silk threads and such odds and ends. “Certainly, Mrs. Leslie, don’t move, I beg. I will find a seat near by,” he returned. She was looking at him eagerly. “Mr. Darrell, it is not accident that brings you up here to-night?” she said, and there was a question in her eyes as well as in her voice. He cannot get out of this. “I came on a little business.” “You asked to see Mr. Leslie?” “In reality I expected to see you.” “Ah! you have already solved our terrible mystery—tell me the worst—does Joe visit that awful house to play cards?” It is hard work dealing with a woman—she is apt to ask so many questions and demand an answer—then, if important facts are told her she may in a fit of pique or anger disclose them to the very one who should not know. Darrell knows all this. He understands how to manage the gentler sex, and in the present instance does not mean to tell one whit more than is necessary. “I am sorry to say, Mrs. Leslie, that the case is not yet closed—indeed, the complications are growing more serious—but,” as he observes the look of pain on her sweet face, “I expect and hope to soon clear it all up.” “Heaven grant it,” she replied. Luckily Lillian had considerable reserve force in her nature, and now that this was brought into play, she gave promise of rising to meet the exigencies of the occasion. Darrell admired her courage. He found it harder to believe evil of her than he did of Joe, for he had great respect for the gentler sex, and believed all men had a good share of the old Adam in them—some fought the good fight and conquered—others lay down their arms and surrendered, while many ran to meet the evil half way, so misshapen were their souls. Alone, when speculating upon this strange double case, he might figure out this thing or that by force of logic; but when looking upon that truthful, lovely face, and into those calm eyes, he was ready to exclaim: “Shame upon you, Eric Darrell, for ever even thinking this little woman and wrong could have anything in common. She’s an angel if ever there was one on earth, and I hope her sister is built upon the same pattern.” “Where is Joe?” he asked, suddenly. “You haven’t seen him then?” “I—no, indeed, not to speak to since he was in my office this afternoon.” “I—thought he had gone to you—he spoke your name in connection with the matter.” “What matter, may I ask?” “The sad affair that took him from me to-night.” Sad affair! As Darrell saw again in imagination the gay surroundings of the hall where the grand _bal masque_ was being held, he ground his teeth in silent rage, but knowing that a pair of sharp eyes were upon him he did not allow his fury to find a vent. “Indeed! I am just as much in the dark as ever, Mrs. Leslie—enlighten me.” “I presume it’s the same sad business he went to see you about to-day.” Darrell thought not.