“It is the name of Alma’s twin, anyway,” March said, grasping me by the shoulder, none too gently. “Wake up, man, you have something to live for now! Listen to me. Alma’s twin sister is in the house at Whistling Reeds, and has been there all the time. While their mother was alive she kept the girls at Pleasure Dome, Alma openly and Alda secretly. No one knew of the sister’s existence except the three Merivales and Griscom and Mrs. Fenn. “They were bound to secrecy by Sampson Tracy, and he knew how to command obedience. Of course, Tracy and Alma knew all. Then, when Alma’s mother died, she left Alda as a sacred trust, and Alma has devoted her life to the afflicted twin. You see, Alda is normal and sane the greater part of the time. But she cannot be allowed to know people for there is no telling when the spasms will come on. And when they do there is no treatment necessary save to control and soothe her. The Merivales, with Alma, look after that, and much of the time the two girls are together.” “Now, you see the truth of March’s deductions that there was another inmate of the Whistling Reeds’ house,” Keeley said. “Where they keep her, I don’t know, but——” “Let’s go right over there,” March suggested. “It’s only fair to end Miss Alma’s misery and suspense as soon as possible.” Still dazed and wondering, I watched the others recall Doctor Greenway and give him back the paper he had produced, and then we went away—back to Keeley’s place, and into a boat and over to Whistling Reeds with all possible speed. The glum boatmaster greeted us surlily, as usual, but March paid no attention and made straight for the house. His ring was answered by Merry herself, and she looked very perturbed and anxious. “I’m glad you’ve come, gentlemen,” she said. “We are in great trouble.” It was then that I took the helm. As Alma’s fiancé, for I so considered myself, it was my right and my duty to take matters in charge. “Mrs. Merivale,” I said, simply, “we know all about Miss Alda.” She staggered back a step and then a look of relief passed over her strong, gaunt face. “Yes, sir,” she said, apparently accustomed to accept the word of her superiors. “Then you can advise us, sir. Miss Alda is took very bad.” “Do you want a doctor?” asked March, hurriedly. “No, sir, a doctor can do nothing—nothing at all.” “What can we do?” Keeley asked, eagerly. “I don’t know yet—perhaps if you’d just wait down here, till I see how she is now——” “Merry,” called a man’s voice from upstairs, and she hurried away. I recognized the tones of John Merivale and I did not offer to go upstairs with the nurse, knowing she would call us, if necessary. I longed to be with Alma, to comfort and care for her, but I could not intrude uninvited. But after we had waited perhaps a half hour, Alma came downstairs and out to the porch where we sat. She was composed, but with a new sadness in her eyes and a new droop to her lovely lips.