He was undoubtedly drunk! Thoroughly alarmed she pushed him upright, and struggled vainly to open the carriage door with her disengaged hand. With a tremendous jolt, which again deposited the helpless figure on her shoulder, the carriage wheels struck the curb as the horses turned into the driveway leading to the _porte-cochère_ of the Carew residence. As the horses came to a standstill the front door was thrown open, and the negro butler hastened down the short flight of steps. Cynthia, with one desperate effort, flung the man back into his corner and, as the butler turned the stiff handle and opened the door, half jumped, half fell out of the landau. "A man's in the carriage, Joshua," she cried. "See who it is." The servant looked at her in surprise, then obediently poked his head inside the open door. Unable to see clearly he drew back and fumbled in his pocket for a matchbox. "Keep dem hosses still, Hamilton," he directed, as the coachman leaned down from his seat, and then he pulled out a match. "Miss Cynthia, yo' bettah go inter der house," glancing at the young girl's pale countenance, "I'll 'ten to dis hyar pusson." But Cynthia remained where she was and peeped over the butler's shoulder. He struck a match and held it in the hollow of his hand until the tiny flame grew brighter, then leaned forward and gazed into the carriage. The intruder was huddled in the corner, his head thrown back, and the light fell on a livid face and was reflected back from glazing eyes. Cynthia's knees gave way, and she sank speechless to the ground. "'Fore Gawd!" gasped Joshua, "it's Marse James--an' he's daid!" [Illustration: "But Cynthia remained where she was and peeped over the butler's shoulder"] CHAPTER III A MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY The portières were pulled aside. "Excellency, breakfast is served," and the servant bowed deferentially toward a figure standing in the bow window. As the announcement reached his ears in the musical language of his native tongue, the Japanese Ambassador turned from the window and hastened into the dining room. A small pile of letters lay beside his plate, and he opened and read them as he leisurely ate his breakfast. Tossing aside the last note, he picked up the morning _Herald_, and his eyes glanced casually over the page then stopped, arrested by a three-column heading: SENATOR CAREW DEAD A MYSTERIOUS TRAGEDY Murder or Suicide? The Ambassador pushed aside his plate and read the smaller type with growing interest. "During the cloudburst of last night, when the heavens themselves seemed to threaten Washington, a most mysterious crime was committed in the fashionable Northwest. United States Senator James Carew, of Maryland, one of the most distinguished and influential men in political and official circles, was found dead in his carriage early this morning.