"Don't tell Father." Dazed, half-comprehending, I repeated: "Yes." Upton had found nothing else, except Helen's watch, open beside the writing case, and a glass that still held a little sherry. At this he looked with sombre intelligence and set it carefully aside. Nothing in the room had been disturbed. Helen's chair had the look of having been pushed from the table as she rose but a minute before. Near it on an easel stood the Van Nostrand picture, smiling--smiling, as if it had seen no tragedy. On the floor was a little ash as of charred paper. In a few minutes Mrs. Reid and Kitty returned with Mr. Winship. Through the fog that enveloped me I saw with dull curiosity that they had told him something that he didn't understand. He could not believe Helen dead, but knelt by her side and coaxed her to wake, rubbing her fair, slender hands between his leathery palms and calling her by every pet name of her childhood. "It's on'y your ol' Dad, Sis," he crooned. "Jes' come to fetch ye t' yer Ma; that's all. I know yer tired--plum tired out; but Ma 'n' me'll take care on ye." It was pitiful to hear him. He desisted at last and looked back at us with a mien of anger. "Do suthin', some o' ye," he snarled, "'stid o' standin' round like gumps! Speak to me, Poppet; tell yer ol' Pap w'at ails ye. Fetch some hot water, you gals! Ain't ye got no sense? Rub her feet; an' her hands. Speak to me, Sissy--why don't ye?" As the truth slowly won over him, he straightened himself, one hand still clasping Helen's cold one. "It's sudden; sudden," he said. "Doctor, w'at ailed my little Nelly?" Still numbly inquisitive, I waited. The old man couldn't see the truth, the horrible truth. What would the doctor say? It was Cadge's voice that broke the silence; gentle, assured, yet with a note almost of defiance. "We think--in fact, Helen overstudied," she said. "We've been much worried about her." Dr. Upton turned abruptly. Cadge's irregular, mobile face for once was still, its quiet demand bent full upon him. His answering look refused her, but the effort was obvious with which he spoke to the broken man waiting his verdict. "Miss Winship--your daughter--" he began. The words died. Cadge's steady black eyes controlled him. "Wa-al?" The doctor bowed his head over Helen. I was listening again to her watch that ticked insistently. "Don't tell Father! Don't tell Father!" it said over and over, over and over, louder and louder, until the words echoed from every corner of the room. They must hear! That was why she had left it! "I ast ye w'at ailed my little girl." "Cardiac asthenia--heart failure," said Dr. Upton, abruptly. Kitty threw herself upon Cadge, kissing her convulsively, while Mr. Winship persisted:-- "Sis was first-rate yist'day; w'at fetched the attack on?" As gently as Cadge herself, Dr. Upton answered:--