The little court-house at Mariposa is not large enough for the crowd which pours in to see the Lady of Lagunitas when the fated day approaches. It is the largest estate in the country. A number of strangers have arrived. They are targets for wild rumors. Several grave-looking arrivals are evidently advocates. There is "law" in their very eyebrows. Raoul Dauvray escorts Madame de Santos and the girl whose rumored loveliness is famous already. Philip Hardin, with several noted counsel, is in readiness. PŠre Fran‡ois is absent. There is an elderly invalid, with an Eastern party of strangers, who resembles him wonderfully. On the case being reached, there is a busy hum of preparation. One or two professional-looking men of mysterious identity quietly take their places at the bar. In the clerk's offices there is also a bevy of strangers. By a fortuitous chance, the stalwart form of Colonel Joe Woods illuminates the dingy court-room. His business is not on the calendar, He sits idly playing with a huge diamond ring until the "matter of the guardianship of Isabel Valois" is reached. Several lawyers spring to their feet at once. A queer gleam is in Joe Woods' eye as he nods carelessly to Hardin. They are both Knights of the Golden Circle. Judge Hardin's counsel opens the case, Hardin passes Natalie in the court-room, with one last look of warning and menace. There is no quiver to her eyelids. The graceful figure of a veiled young girl is beside her. When Hardin's advocate ceases, counsel rises to bring the contest for the heirship of Lagunitas to the judicial notice of the Court. The Judge is asked to stay the confirmation of the guardian's accounts and reports. His Honor blandly asks if the young lady is in court. "Let Isabel Valois take the stand," is the direction. Judge Hardin arises and passing to Natalie Santos, whose glittering eyes are steadily fixed on his, in an inscrutable gaze, leads the young lady beside her to the stand. Natalie has whispered a few words of cheer. All eyes are fixed upon the beautiful stranger, who is removing a veil from a face of the rarest loveliness. There is a sensation. Philip Hardin rises to his feet, ghastly pale, as Joseph Woods quietly leads up to the platform a slight, girlish form. It is another veiled woman, who quietly seats herself beside the claimant. There is amazement in the court-room, "His Honor," with a startled glance at Judge Hardin, who is gazing vacantly at the two figures before him, says, "Which of these young ladies is Miss Isabel Valois?" A voice is heard. It is one of the strange counselors speaking. Hardin hears the words, as if each stabbed him to the heart. "Your Honor, we are prepared to show that the last young lady who has taken the stand, is Miss Isabel Valois."