"Do they--do they not look alike?" I gasped. "I thought--I imagined----" "Louise Van Burnam look like that girl! O no, they were very different sort of women. What made you think there was any resemblance between them?" I did not answer her; the structure I had reared with such care and circumspection had fallen about my ears and I lay gasping under the ruins. XXV. "THE RINGS! WHERE ARE THE RINGS?" Had Mr. Gryce been present, I would have instantly triumphed over my disappointment, bottled up my chagrin, and been the inscrutable Amelia Butterworth before he could say, "Something has gone wrong with this woman!" But Mr. Gryce was not present, and though I did not betray the half I felt. I yet showed enough emotion for Miss Althorpe to remark: "You seemed surprised by what I have told you. Has any one said that these two women were alike?" Having to speak, I became myself again in a trice, and nodded vigorously. "Some one was so foolish," I remarked. Miss Althorpe looked thoughtful. While she was interested she was not so interested as to take the subject in fully. Her own concerns made her abstracted, and I was very glad of it. "Louise Van Burnam had a sharp chin and a very cold blue eye. Yet her face was a fascinating one to some." "Well, it was a dreadful tragedy!" I observed, and tried to turn the subject aside, which fortunately I was able to do after a short effort. Then I picked the basket up, and perceiving the sick woman's lips faintly moving, I went over to her and found her murmuring to herself. As Miss Althorpe had risen when I did, I did not dare to listen to these murmurs, but when my charming hostess had bidden me good-night, with many injunctions not to tire myself, and to be sure and remember that a decanter and a plate of biscuits stood on a table outside, I hastened back to the bedside, and leaning over my patient, endeavored to catch the words as they fell from her lips. As they were simple and but the echo of those running at that very moment through my own brain, I had no difficulty in distinguishing them. "Van Burnam!" she was saying, "Van Burnam!" varied by a short "Howard!" and once by a doubtful "Franklin!" "Ah," thought I, with a sudden reaction, "she is the woman I seek, if she is not Louise Van Burnam." And unheeding the start she gave, I pulled off the blanket I had spread over her, and willy-nilly drew off her left shoe and stocking. Her bare ankle showed no scar, and covering it quickly up I took up her shoe. Immediately the trepidation she had shown at the approach of a stranger's hand towards that article of clothing was explained. In the lining around the top were sewn bills of no ordinary amount, and as the other shoe was probably used as a like depository, she naturally felt concern at any approach which might lead to a discovery of her little fortune.