Pauline nodded. “It is obvious, therefore, that there is something else to be done, or to occur--probably in Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom. For if it is not to happen in Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom, why should your sister have voluntarily tied herself up there?” “But what could possibly happen in Mrs. Ilam’s bedroom?” demanded Pauline, with a nervous start of apprehension. “How do I know?” Carpentaria replied. “I can only point to certain indications, which lead to certain conclusions. You will oblige me by watching, Miss Dartmouth.” “Where?” “The landing and the stairs of your house. Is there a view of the stairs from your room?” “Yes,” said Pauline. “Then you can watch from there. Do not burn a light.” “And if anything strange does occur?” “Go to your balcony, and tie a white handkerchief to the railings.” “And you?” queried Pauline. At that moment there was the sound of a window opening in Carpentaria’s bungalow across the avenue, and a voice called plaintively: “Carlos, is that you?” “It is I,” he answered, as low as he could. “Go to her. Comfort her,” Pauline enjoined him. “I am coming to you,” he obediently called in the direction of the window. Both of them could see the vague figure of Juliette, framed in the window. “Poor thing!” murmured Pauline. “Afterwards,” said Carpentaria hurriedly, “I shall come out again and watch the outside of your house. With you inside and me outside, it will be very difficult for anything peculiar to occur without our knowledge.” And he left her, impressed by her common sense and her self-control, and withal her utter womanliness. The hall of his own house was dark, and all the rooms of the ground-floor deserted. He mounted to the upper story. Juliette, hearing his footsteps, had come to the door of the study, from whose window she had hailed him, and she stared at him with a fixed and almost stony gaze as he approached. Her figure was silhouetted against the electric light in the study. “Turn that light out instantly,” he said, with involuntary sternness. She did not move, and, obsessed by the importance of giving to anyone who might be spying the impression that all the occupants of the house had retired for the night, he pushed past her and turned off the switch. “Oh, Carlos,” Juliette sighed, “how cruel you are?” He now saw her indistinctly in the deep gloom of the chamber, and her form seemed pathetic to him, and her sad, despairing voice even more pathetic. He went up to her impulsively and took her hand. “Juliette,” he said, “can you believe it of me?” “Miss Dartmouth has spoken to you?” she asked, a glimmer of hope in her tone. “Yes,” he said. “Can you believe that I have--have caused anything to be done to Ilam?” “Have you not?” she demanded eagerly. And he told her what he had previously told Pauline. She thanked him with an affectionate kiss.