Into this room Mrs. Dunbar entered without further ceremony, and after walking a few paces found a chair, into which she sank with something like a groan. Wiggins looked at her in silence, and regarding her with that earnest glance which was usual with him. Mrs. Dunbar sat for a few moments without saying a word, with her face buried in her hands, as it had been in Edith's room; but at length she raised her head, and looked at Wiggins. Her face was still deathly pale, her hands twitched the folds of her dress convulsively, and her eyes had a glassy stare that was almost terrible. It could be no common thing that had caused such deep emotion in one who was usually so self-contained. At last she spoke. “I have seen him!” said she, in a low tone, which was hardly raised above a whisper. Wiggins looked at her in silence for some time, and at length said, in a low voice, “He is here, then?” “He is here,” said Mrs. Dunbar. “But have you seen him? Why did you not tell me that he was here? The shock was terrible. You ought to have told me.” Wiggins sighed. “I intended to do so,” said he; “but I did not know that he would come so soon.” “When did you see him?” asked Mrs. Dunbar, abruptly. “Yesterday--only yesterday.” “You knew him at once, of course, from his extraordinary likeness to--to the other one. I wish you had told me. Oh, how I wish you had told me! The shock was terrible.” And saying this, Mrs. Dunbar gave a deep sigh that was like a groan. “The fact is,” said Wiggins, “I have been trying to conjecture how he came here, and as I did not think he would come to the Hall--at least, not just yet--I thought I would spare you. Forgive me if I have made a mistake. I had no idea that he was coming to the Hall.” “How could he have come here?” said Mrs. Dunbar. “What possible thing could have sent him?” “Well,” said Wiggins, “I can understand that easily enough. This Miss Plympton you know, as I told you, threatened that she would go to see Lionel. I forgot to ask her about that when I saw her, but it seems now that she must have carried out her threat. She has undoubtedly gone to see Lionel, and Lionel has sent his boy instead of coming himself. Had he only come himself, all would have been well. That is the chief thing that I hoped for. But he has not chosen to come, and so here is the son instead of the father. It is unfortunate; it delays matters most painfully; but we must bear it.” “Do you think Lionel can suspect?” asked Mrs. Dunbar, anxiously. “Suspect? Not he. I think that he objected to come himself for a very good reason. He has good grounds for declining to revisit Dalton Hall. He has sent his son to investigate, and how this enterprise will end remains to be seen.” “I don't see how he managed to get into the place at all,” said Mrs. Dunbar. “Wilkins is usually very particular.”