Early the next morning, while the inmates of the house were occupied in the serving or the eating of breakfast, Mrs. De Peyster was startled by a soft knocking at her door. But instantly she was reassured by the tremulous accents without. "It's me, ma'am,--Matilda. Let me in--quick!" The next instant the door opened and Matilda half staggered, half fell, into the room. But such a Matilda! Shivering all over, eyes wildly staring. "What is it?" cried Mrs. De Peyster, seizing her housekeeper's arm. "Oh, ma--ma--ma'am," chattered Matilda. "It's--it's awful!" "But what is it?" demanded Mrs. De Peyster, beginning to tremble with an unknown terror. "Oh, it's--it's awful! I couldn't get you word before--for I didn't dare write, and my sister wasn't well enough for me to leave her till last night." Mrs. De Peyster shook the shaking Matilda. "Will you please tell me what's happened!" "Yes, ma--ma'am. Here's a copy of the first paper that had anything about it. The paper's over a week old. I brought it along to--to break the thing to you gently." Mrs. De Peyster seized the newspaper. In the center of its first page was a reproduction of M. Dubois's painting of herself, and across the paper's top ran the giant headline:-- MRS. DE PEYSTER FOUND DEAD IN THE SEINE _Face Disfigured by Water, but Friends in Paris Identify Social Leader by Clothes upon the Body_ Mrs. De Peyster sank without a word into a chair, and her face duplicated the ashen hue of Matilda's. Matilda likewise collapsed into a chair. "Oh, isn't it awful, ma'am," she moaned. "So--so it's I--that's--that's dead!" mumbled Mrs. De Peyster. "Yes, ma'am. But that isn't all. I--I thought I'd break it to you gently. That was over a week ago. Since then--" "You mean," breathed the marble lips of Mrs. De Peyster, "that there's something more?" "Yes, ma'am. Oh, the papers have been full of it. It's been a tremendous sensation!" "Oh!" gasped Mrs. De Peyster. "And Mr. Jack, since you died without a will, is your heir. And, since he is now the head of the De Peyster family, the first thing he did on hearing the news was to arrange by cable to have your body sent here." Mrs. De Peyster, as though galvanized, half rose from her chair. "You mean--my body--is coming here?" "I said I was trying to break it to you gently," moaned Matilda. "It's--it's already here. The ship that brought it is now docking. Your funeral--" "My funeral!" "It takes place in the drawing-room, this morning. Oh, isn't it awful! But, perhaps, ma'am, if you could see what beautiful flowers your friends have sent--" But Mrs. De Peyster had very softly sunk back into her chair. [Illustration: "SO--SO IT'S I--THAT'S--THAT'S DEAD!"] CHAPTER XXI THE VEILED LADY As soon as that huddled mass of womanhood that was Mrs. De Peyster had become sufficiently reanimated to be able to think, its first thought came in the form of an unuttered wail.