She took the pen with trembling fingers, laid the receipt upon her chair-arm without reading, and signed her name with a somewhat painful slowness. Then she leaned back with a sigh of relief, and buried her face in her hands. Mr. Royce placed the receipt in his pocket book, and stopped, hesitating. But the maid had opened the door and was awaiting us. Her mistress made no sign; there was no excuse to linger. We turned and followed the maid. "Miss Holladay seems very ill," said Mr. Royce, in a voice somewhat tremulous, as she paused before us in the lower hall. "Yes, sir; ver' ill." Again the voice! I took advantage of the chance to look at her intently. Her hair was turning gray, certainly; her face was seamed with lines which only care and poverty could have graven there; and yet, beneath it all, I fancied I could detect a faded but living likeness to Hiram Holladay's daughter. I looked again--it was faint, uncertain--perhaps my nerves were overwrought and were deceiving me. For how could such a likeness possibly exist? "She has a physician, of course?" asked my companion. "Oh, yes, sir." "He has advised rest and quiet?" "Yes, sir." "When do you leave for the country?" "To-morrow or the next day after that, I think, sir." He turned to the door and then paused, hesitating. He opened his lips to say something more--his anxiety was clamoring for utterance--then he changed his mind and stepped outside as she held the door open. "Good-day," he said, with stern repression. "I wish her a pleasant journey." The door closed after us, and we went down the steps. "Jenkinson's the family doctor," he said. "Let's drive around there, and find out how really ill Miss Holladay is. I'm worried about her, Lester." "That's a good idea," I agreed, and gave the driver the address. Jenkinson was in his office, and received us at once. "Doctor Jenkinson," began our junior, without preamble, "I am John Royce, of Graham & Royce. You know, I suppose, that we are the legal advisers of Miss Frances Holladay." "Yes," answered Jenkinson. "Glad to meet you, Mr. Royce." "In consequence, we're naturally interested in her welfare and all that concerns her, and I called to ask you for some definite details of her condition." "Her condition? I don't quite understand." "We should like to know, doctor, just how ill she is." "Ill!" repeated Jenkinson, in evident surprise. "But is she ill?" "She's your patient, isn't she? I thought you were the family doctor." "So I am," assented the other. "But I haven't seen Miss Holladay for ten days or two weeks. At that time, she seemed quite well--a little nervous, perhaps, and worried, but certainly not requiring medical attention. She has always been unusually robust." Mr. Royce stopped, perplexed; as for me, my head was in a whirl again.