“But can’t they keep her out—the Other One? Why do they let her in?” “Mrs. Vanderbridge tries hard. She tries all she can every minute. You saw her to-night?” “And Mr. Vanderbridge? Can’t he help her?” She shook her head with an ominous gesture. “He doesn’t know.” “He doesn’t know she is there? Why, she was close by him. She never took her eyes off him except when she was staring through me at the wall.” “Oh, he knows she is there, but not in that way. He doesn’t know that any one else knows.” I gave it up, and after a minute she said in a suppressed voice, “It seems strange that you should have seen her. I never have.” “But you know all about her.” “I know and I don’t know. Mrs. Vanderbridge lets things drop sometimes—she gets ill and feverish very easily—but she never tells me anything outright. She isn’t that sort.” “Haven’t the servants told you about her—the Other One?” At this, I thought, she seemed startled. “Oh, they don’t know anything to tell. They feel that something is wrong; that is why they never stay longer than a week or two—we’ve had eight butlers since autumn—but they never see what it is.” She stooped to pick up the ball of yarn which had rolled under my chair. “If the time ever comes when you can stand between them, you will do it?” she asked. “Between Mrs. Vanderbridge and the Other One?” Her look answered me. “You think, then, that she means harm to her?” “I don’t know. Nobody knows—but she is lulling her.” The clock struck ten, and I returned to my book with a yawn, while Hopkins gathered up her work and went out, after wishing me a formal goodnight. The odd part about our secret conferences was that as soon as they were over, we began to pretend so elaborately to each other that they had never been. “I’ll tell Mrs. Vanderbridge that you are very comfortable,” was the last remark Hopkins made before she sidled out of the door and left me alone with the mystery. It was one of those situations—I am obliged to repeat this over and over—that was too preposterous for me to believe in even while I was surrounded and overwhelmed by its reality. I didn’t dare face what I thought, I didn’t dare face even what I felt; but I went to bed shivering in a warm room, while I resolved passionately that if the chance ever came to me I would stand between Mrs. Vanderbridge and this unknown evil that threatened her. In the morning Mrs. Vanderbridge went out shopping, and I did not see her until the evening, when she passed me on the staircase as she was going out to dinner and the opera. She was radiant in blue velvet, with diamonds in her hair and at her throat, and I wondered again how any one so lovely could ever be troubled. “I hope you had a pleasant day, Miss Wrenn,” she said kindly. “I have been too busy to get off any letters, but to-morrow we shall begin early.” Then, as if from an afterthought, she looked back and added, “There are some new novels in my sitting-room. You might care to look over them.”