“It was Nurse Black who thought of the plan of substituting the lovely Curtis child for the dead Varian baby, and we proposed it to Mr Varian. To our surprise he fairly jumped at it. He begged us to ascertain if Mrs Curtis would agree, saying he would pay her well. Now, Mrs Curtis was only too grateful to be assured of a good home and care for her child, and willingly gave it over to the Varians. But Mrs Varian never knew. “That was Mr Varian’s idea, and it was an honest and true desire to please his wife and to provide her with a healthy child such as she herself could never bear. “I think Mr Varian was decided at the last by the piteous cries of Mrs Varian for her baby. When he heard her, he said quickly, ‘Take the Curtis child to her,—and see if she accepts it?’” “And did she?” asked Zizi, her eyes shining at the dramatic story. “Oh, she did! She cried out in joy that it was her baby and a beautiful, healthy child, and she was so pleased and happy and contented that she dropped off into a fine, natural sleep and began to get well at once. When she wakened she asked for the child, and so it went on until there was no question what to do. The whole matter was considered settled——” “Who knew of the fraud?” asked Wise. “No one in the world but Mrs Curtis, Mr Varian and we two nurses. Mr Varian paid the poor mother ten thousand dollars, and he gave us a thousand dollars apiece. The authorities of the hospital never knew. They assumed the dead child was Mrs Curtis’ and the living child was Mrs Varian’s.” “And the doctors?” “There was but one. I forgot him. Yes, he knew, but he was a greedy scamp, and Mr Varian easily bought him over. He died soon after, anyway.” “So that now,—what living people know of this thing?” “Why—you say Mr Varian is dead?” “Yes.” “And Mrs Varian never learned the truth?” “No,” Zizi answered, emphatically, “she never did.” “And Nurse Black is dead, and the doctor is dead,—why, then nobody knows it—oh, yes, Mrs Curtis, of course.” “She, too, is dead,” Wise said. “Then nobody knows it but we three here. Unless of course, Mr Varian or Mrs Curtis told.” “Mr Varian never did,” Wise said,—“as to Mrs Curtis I can’t say.” “Oh, she’d never tell,” Mrs Briggs declared. “She was honest in the whole matter. She said she didn’t know how she’d support her three children, let alone a fourth. And, she was glad and thankful to have it brought up among rich and kind people. She never would have let it go unless she had been sure of their kindness and care, but we told her what fine people the Varians were and she was satisfied.” “Were there adoption papers taken out?” Mrs Briggs stared at Wise’s question. “Why, no; it wasn’t an adoption, it was a substitution. How could there be an adoption? Mrs Varian thought it her own child,—the authorities of the hospital thought the living child was Mrs Varian’s. The matter was kept a perfect secret.”