Lawrence scarcely took in the meaning of the second paragraph. His brain was reeling. Her husband! He could not believe that he had read aright, and dazedly his eyes sought the paragraph and tried to focus themselves upon the amazing, impossible, dastardly words. Before he could do so, however, an impatient movement came from the woman beside him, and her voice broke the stillness. "Well?" she snapped. "Are you her husband?" Barry flung back his head and stared at her with blazing eyes. "No!" he replied sharply. "No, I’m not! I’d give anything under heaven if there could ever be a chance for me to be." The words were scarcely out of his mouth before he realized, with a pang of dismay, that he had been stung into saying something he never meant to say. All day he had been telling himself over and over again that no word concerning his feelings for Shirley Rives should ever pass his lips, yet now he had blurted it out like a blundering fool. The color flamed into his face, and his lids drooped before the curious expression in Mrs. Wilmerding’s eyes. "Indeed!" she said tersely. "And may I ask why you think there isn’t?" Lawrence stared at her in astonishment. Then he pulled himself together and glanced again at the crumpled letter. "If this is true——" he began. But Mrs. Wilmerding cut him short with a most emphatic snort. "Fiddlesticks!" she snapped. "You don’t believe that, I hope? Haven’t you any faith at all in Shirley? It’s all a lie from beginning to end." "But what——" "I don’t know," she broke in, frowning. "I don’t understand it yet, but I know it’s a lie." Barry’s spirits began to rise. There was something about her tone of positiveness which heartened him instinctively. He had not really doubted Shirley; but the statement of the unknown writer was so nonchalant and matter-of-fact that it bewildered him. "Still," he remarked more calmly, "you asked me——" "I had my reasons; but it wasn’t because I thought it true." She stood leaning against the side of a heavy, carved table, both hands resting lightly on the dull, waxed surface, her shrewd, bright eyes holding his in thrall. "What stands between you and Shirley?" she questioned quietly. Lawrence threw out his hands in an impatient gesture. "Everything!" he exclaimed. "Her money and my lack of it are enough, without wasting time to go into any others." "Her money!" Mrs. Wilmerding repeated. Then, with a sudden frown, she went on swiftly: "You’re right. We are wasting time. Let us get down to business at once. Shirley must be found to-night, and yet I don’t feel like putting the matter into the hands of the police." "You don’t believe there can be a particle of truth in this letter?" Barry questioned.