"Oh, I am not at all timid, I assure you; but it is nicer to go together. Am I almost ready, Strong?" "Almost, Miss Payne." "How quickly your maid dresses you," said Cora, resolved to keep the conversational ball rolling. "Oh, yes; Strong knows how to pack things so that what you want first is uppermost, and I had my dinner dress in a hand traveling-case." Then, turning about she asked, abruptly: "Have you a good maid, step-mamma?" Cora laughed nervously as she replied: "I have no maid, good or bad. My maid ran away a week ago, after robbing me and nearly killing me with chloroform." "Mercy, what a wretch! What have you done with her?" "We have not found her." "Did you look?" "Yes; detectives are looking for her now." "Well, I hope they will find her. Now I am ready; come, step-mamma." And together the two descended the stairs. Three faces reflected three degrees of surprise, as the ladies entered the drawing-room with every appearance of good feeling and mutual satisfaction. Davlin and Percy took their cue immediately. The only one whom an observer would have pronounced not quite at ease, was Miss Ellen Arthur, who stared from one to the other rather more than was polite, and who sustained her part in the conversation in a very nervous, fragmentary manner. Dinner being announced, Mr. Davlin promptly offered his arm to Madeline, who accepted it with perfect nonchalance. They followed Cora to the dining-room, themselves followed by Miss Arthur and Percy. Where four people separately, and each for his own end, determine to appear cordial and perfectly at ease, each one bent upon completely blinding the other three, there must of a necessity be much conversation, and more or less hilarity, whether real or assumed. These four, who were waging upon each other secret and deadly war, ate and drank together; and while Madeline regaled them with a fictitious account of herself during the time she had been supposed dead, the others listened and commented, and vied with each other in paying hypocritical court to the heiress of Oakley. "You see, step-mamma," said Madeline, as they lingered over their dessert, "I was never ignorant of what was going on here. My old nurse kept me informed. When I sent you the fiction of my death, I had no intention of returning, for I had determined never to live at Oakley during my step-father's reign. But upon hearing of his insanity, I resolved to come back, being now, of course, the real head of the house. Mr. Arthur being _non compos mentis_, I, as heiress, assume control of my own." If a wish could have killed, Cora would have closed forever that insolent smiling mouth. But she felt herself powerless.