“You wished to see me, sir,” she said, in a voice which was somewhat tremulous, and unquestionably that of one who had suffered much. “Miss Morales, I believe.” “That is my name, sir.” “I owe you an apology for the little deception,” I said, handing her my professional card. “As you see, I am not from the Emporium, although I obtained the address from my friend Mr. Courtney, at that establishment.” Her hand trembled as she took the card, and she gazed at it fearfully, as though apprehensive of danger. “Shall we not be seated?” I asked, motioning to a settee. The young woman acquiesced, almost mechanically. Seating myself beside her, I said: “Miss Morales, while I am a total stranger to you, I wish you would not construe my visit and what I am about to say to you as either impertinent or menacing to yourself. I am here with the best of intentions, but I must discuss with you a matter which, you may be assured, is of vital importance to you. Anything you may say will be treated by me as strictly confidential--as, in short, a professional secret.” She gazed at me helplessly, with the dumb, haunting dread of impending disaster in her beautiful eyes. “You are, or have been, I believe,” I continued, “a very close friend of Mr. Hartley Peyton’s.” The poor girl’s face became ghastly pale, and I feared she was going to faint, as she stammered, weakly,-- “Ye--yes, sir. We are, or at least we were, friends--we were very good friends.” “Well,” I continued, “it may interest you to know that I was called to see him professionally last night, and found him very ill.” “Then he is much better now; he is quite recovered, is he not, doctor?” she exclaimed eagerly, springing to her feet. “I regret to say that he is not better. In fact,” I replied, “Mr. Peyton is--” “My God, doctor!” she cried, “he is not dead?” “Miss Morales, Hartley Peyton died at two o’clock this morning.” The young woman buried her face in her hands, and fell back upon the settee in a state of almost total collapse. “Miss Morales,” I continued, “the point which mutually interests us is that the circumstances surrounding Mr. Peyton’s death were very peculiar and unusual, in fact, suspicious in the extreme. I will go further and state that I have formed a very definite opinion of the cause of his death.” Thrown completely off her guard by fright, the poor girl moaned, “Oh, doctor, you surely do not suspect that I--you surely do not believe that I could ever have--” “I am not at present expressing any views as to the peculiar agencies which acted directly or indirectly in causing the unfortunate man’s demise. I have merely stated to you the fact of his death, and that I have arrived at a certain conclusion as to the cause of it.