Finally, she straightened her aching figure and stood upright. She was conscious of a slight feeling of giddiness; the next instant she had lost her balance and rolled to the floor. As she descended she threw out her hand and instinctively clutched the valance. It ripped away with a tearing sound, and when she sat up, bewildered, her eyes were on a level with the wooden springs of the bed. Between them and the mattress rested an oblong box. It was painted the color of mahogany and fitted snugly into its cleverly contrived hiding place. Nina's fingers trembled as she lifted out the box and tried to raise the cover. It was locked. Scrambling to her feet, she hurried to the bureau and selected a steel shoe horn. Slipping it under the box-lid she exerted all her strength. The lock resisted her efforts at first, then the rotten wood gave with a slight splintering sound. In panting haste she threw back the lid. The box appeared to be filled with papers of all sizes, but Nina lost no time in examining them. On top lay a package of letters bearing her name in a familiar handwriting. Snatching them up, Nina replaced the box. With the aid of pins she tacked the valance back in place as best she could, straightened the bedclothes, and then stole from the room, her precious package clasped tightly in her hand. As she passed down the staircase, she was totally unaware that she was watched, nor did she catch the faint sound made by the opening and closing of "Miss Susan's" bedroom door. The fire in the library had been replenished a short time before by Mandy and it blazed with unaccustomed brilliancy, and Nina in the overheated atmosphere felt a return of the giddiness which had upset her upstairs. Crossing the library, she threw open the upper half of the Dutch door. The cool air refreshed her and she stood enjoying it while her gaze roved over the garden and its box hedges along the walks. The flower beds in their winter dress presented a dreary aspect. But Nina's attention did not linger upon them; instead it centered upon a man sitting on one of the stone benches near the sun-dial. His air of dejection was marked. He turned ever so slightly and in spite of the soft hat pulled far down on his forehead and his hunched shoulders, Nina recognized Leigh Wallace. On impulse she turned the key in the lower half of the door and opening it, walked down the path. Her footfall was noiseless and it was not until she stopped directly in front of him that Wallace became aware of her approach. "Nina!" The low cry escaped him involuntarily. "Don't!" Her tone stung him like a lash. "I prefer to be addressed as Mrs. Potter." "Certainly." Wallace grew white to the lips. "I shall respect your wishes. Had I known that you were here, I would not have come." "It is perhaps as well that you are here," Nina took a step forward. "It gives me an opportunity to return these letters." Wallace looked at the package she held toward him and then at her.