"Well, now," said the officer, with policial jocularity, "since you two ladies already got your hats on, I guess we'll just offer you our arms to the station." Mrs. De Peyster gave Matilda a look of frenzied appeal. But Matilda needed not the spur of another's desperation. For herself she saw a prison cell agape. "But I tell you I'm Matilda Simpson, Mrs. De Peyster's housekeeper!" "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 hell 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.