"Giles was not here till later. Says so himself. I'm told it was a stranger—on his way to call. By the time anybody had leisure to notice him, he was like a sweep, and he went off to make himself presentable—told John he would come later. One or two seem to have mistaken him for Giles." "Oddly enough I did—but it was a mere glimpse." "His voice was like," murmured Phyllys. Colin left the room, and Mr. Dugdale, moving to examine the carved bedstead, a valuable piece of furniture, badly charred, uttered an exclamation. "My goodness!" Then—"Didn't I say so?" He stooped to lift a framed picture, which seemed to have been put aside, leaning against the wall. He held it up, gazing hard, and Phyllys waited. "It's—IT!" He turned towards her a black-framed antique portrait in oils. She saw a fine delicate face, with familiar blue eyes. "'Well!'" uttered Mr. Dugdale, as if words failed him. Phyllys put a grave question. "Is that the lost picture?" "Yes." It was also the concealed painting, declared by Mrs. Keith to represent her only brother, Jock Reeves. CHAPTER XXXV THE OTHER MAN NOTHING could keep Mrs. Keith quiet. She was unable to rest. Twenty minutes after Colin had left, she dismissed her maid, declaring herself well, and went to the scene of the conflagration, only to find the door locked. Extreme anxiety to know whether the hidden picture had escaped observation oppressed her; but she dared not make direct inquiries. She knew that the dresses on the floor had been consumed; but she also knew that, when the things caught fire, a thick woollen shawl still covered the picture, and her hope was that it might have been left undisturbed. She bitterly regretted now the fancy that had seized her to take one more look at the portrait. If indeed it had been found, her role would be to profess ignorance of its presence in the box. Somebody else, not she, should bear the blame. She would not risk asking for the key of the door, but made her way to the library, where others were gathered, discussing the event of the day. Colin remonstrated with her for being about, putting her gently into an armchair, and Giles tried to turn the subject, seconded by Phyllys. Mr. Dugdale surveyed her with critical glances. "Wonderful woman!" he said to himself. "Brass enough for anything!" Yet she, like they, found it difficult to speak on any other topic but the fire. The dread which weighed upon her nailed her to it. "I'm sure it is a marvel I was not burnt to death," she said. "Giles was so quick—if he had not been there, I must have been killed—perhaps the whole house burnt down." "Unfortunately I can't take credit," remarked Giles. "I should like to discover who my 'doppel' can be." Mrs. Keith was talking still, but she stopped. "'Not' you! How odd! I certainly thought—but I was too terrified to see, and the smoke was stifling."