She flushed again, more hotly than before; she realised that I had caught her in a lie. "I--I can't explain it, sir," she stammered. "I didn't consider it any of my business," she added fiercely. "I think you'll find it difficult to explain," I said, with irony; "even more difficult than how it came to lie there unperceived for nearly three hours. You'll pardon me if I find the story hard to believe." "It's nothing to me whether or not you believe it!" she retorted and made a motion to go on again. "No," I said; "wait a moment. Which is her room?" "This one here," and she pointed to a half-open door just beside us. Ignoring her gesture of protest, I pushed the door back and stepped inside. The room was a large and pleasant one, well lighted and looking out upon the grove at the east side of the house. There was some little disorder apparent, and over a chair at the farther side of the room I saw a veil lying--no doubt the bridal veil. For the moment I did not seek to see more, but turned back into the hall. "Nothing there," I said, as though my inspection of the room was ended. "I suppose you helped Miss Lawrence to dress?" "Yes, sir." "And she had on her wedding-gown when she went downstairs?" "Yes, sir, all but the veil." "What was the colour of the gown?" "White, sir," she answered, with evident contempt. "White satin made very plain." "With a train?" "Yes, sir, with a train." "Thank you," I said. Plainly, a woman garbed in that fashion must be a marked object, wherever she went. Then, seeing that the maid waited for further questions, I added, "That is all, I believe." She opened a door just across the hall and motioned me to precede her. I found myself in a pleasant sitting-room, and looked about for Mrs. Lawrence, but she was not there. The maid went to an inner door which stood half-open, and knocked. "In a moment," called a low voice, and I heard a rustle of draperies. Instinctively I knew that Mrs. Lawrence had been upon her knees. But I was not prepared for the deep distress which I saw in her countenance the instant she appeared upon the threshold. So worn and drawn was it, so changed even in the brief time since I had seen her last, that I scarcely knew her. What had happened? Was her self-control giving way under the strain, or had there been some new shock, some more poignant blow which she had been unable to withstand? She came straight to me where I stood staring, perhaps a little brutally, and lifted tear-dimmed eyes to mine. "Mr. Lester," she said, in a choked voice, "I must ask that this search for Marcia cease." CHAPTER VII Tangled Threads I stared at her a moment without replying--so she _was_ guilty! So she _did_ know! I heard the opening of the door as the maid left the room, and the sound somehow restored me a portion of my self-control. "Cease? But why?" I asked. "Surely----" "Marcia has said that the marriage is impossible," she interrupted. "Is not that enough?"