"What is the matter, Clancy?" Donald had thrown aside the rug under which he had been lying, and had dropped his feet to the floor. "What do you know of----" Peter interrupted sharply with: "I want to meet her. I must meet her, Morris. Fix it for me. It's essential I should meet her at once. There's no time to explain. She may go--oh, for the love of----Mr. Morris, I give you my word that I'm not crazy--and I must see and talk to Mrs. Rutherford!" Staggered by the other's impetuosity, Donald got slowly to his feet. "Wait, wait just a moment," he said, passing his hand over his forehead. "I don't understand, but of course--what shall I tell her?" "Just say you heard her voice and came down to see her," whispered Peter. "Introduce me as a friend--if," he added, with an anxious, questioning look, "if you think you can go that far." Morris looked him steadily in the eyes. Then he nodded slightly. Placing his hand on Peter's shoulder, he said, "I think I can go that far, Clancy. Come on." Peter felt Morris's weight on his shoulder as they descended the stairs, but by the time they had reached the lower porch he was erect and master of himself. Mrs. Atterbury started up in surprise as the two men came through the door, but her brother gave her a warning look, and she subsided into her chair without a word, though her eyes said plainly, "What in the world is Don bringing that detective here for?" He ignored their puzzled question, and advanced with a smile to the visitor. "Good to see you again, Aunt Kate," he said, cordially, as he took her hand, and leaning over, kissed her on the cheek. "It was bully of you to come down so soon." Peter, who was directly behind him, did not see the visitor until Donald stepped back, and said: "Will you let me present my friend, Mr. Peter Clancy--Mrs. Rutherford." Then Peter saw, seated in a high-backed Indian chair, as on a throne, a magnificent old lady whose impressive presence and mien were scarcely affected by the great weight of flesh which seemed to billow all about her. She spoke to him at once, in a voice deep, clear, and resonant. "I'm glad to meet any friend of Donald's," was all she said, but her exquisite enunciation made of the commonplace sentence a thing of beauty. Morris, observantly following Peter's lead, sat down and joined in the quiet, ordinary, everyday conversation. The weather and everybody's health came in for their stereotyped share. Peter, watching, was quite sure they had interrupted a more intimate talk between the two women. He guessed what its subject had been but knew that it would not be resumed in the presence of a stranger.