The mist that had hitherto enshrined two flaming eyes seemed to part as if torn by-lightning. The figure disclosed was not static like that of Jasper Soames, but alive as the sky is a ive in a storm. It was that of my wife as I had last seen her. My mind resumed its action at the point where its memory of Vio had been shut ott. "And," Mrs. Mountney went on, pressing her facts, "you’re Billy Harrowby." I could only bend my head in assent. "That’s my name." "Then why—why—?" She flung her hands apart, unable to continue. Lulu Averill, moving with the tread of a tigress stalking silently, stole down from the piano to the edge of the carpet. Mildred’s eyes as she still faced me were all amber-colored fire. I was like a man waking in the morning from a night of troubled dreams. Little Mrs. Mountney dragged her laces across both the rugs to confront me face to face, standing beside Mildred. "Do you know who I am?" I shook my head. "I’m Alice Tarporley." "Oh yes! You were a friend of Vio’s before we were married. I’ve heard her speak of you; but you lived in Denver." "I went back to Boston only two years ago, when poor Vio was in such trouble because you were—" She cried out, with another wide motion of the arms: "In the name of God, man, what does it all mean?" But I couldn’t go into explanations. I didn’t know where to begin. "Tell me first how Vio is—where she is." "She was perfectly well the day before yesterday, and at your own house in Boston. But don’t you know, don’t you know—? Why, this is too awful! The more I think of it the more awful it becomes. Don’t you know—?" "I—I don’t know anything." She got it out at last. "Don’t you know—Vio thinks you’re—you’re _dead_?" Iron clampings seemed to press me round the ribs. "No; I didn’t know that. What made her think so?" "Who wouldn’t think so? You were reported missing—and when weeks went by—and no news of you—and then, when your uniform was found on the bank of that river, near Tours, wasn’t it? and your papers in the pockets—and your letter of credit, and everything— And here you are in New York, going under another name, working like a stevedore, and looking like a tramp! Why, it’s enough to drive anybody crazy!" I could only stammer: "I shall explain everything, after I’ve seen Vio." "You can’t explain in such a way that—" She swung toward her hostess. "Lulu, I must go straight back to Boston to-night. There’s a train that gets you there in the morning, isn’t there? I hate night traveling. I never sleep, and I have a headache all the next day—but what’s that when—? If Vio hears this from any one but—" She turned to me again. "Then it _was_ true that you’d been seen in New York hotels?" "Possibly; I don’t know what you’re referring to."