As soon as she could collect her thoughts and recover from the numbness that seemed to stiffen every joint and muscle of her body, she ordered her carriage and drove at once to the place where the fire had occurred. She could not get very near, for a score or more of men were still at work among the ruins and the police would not allow the curious spectators to approach. But madam, by persistent questioning, discovered who had been the keepers of the lodging-house and where they could be found. Being energetic people, who depended entirely upon the letting of rooms for their living, they were already engaged in fitting up another establishment for their homeless lodgers, not far from the one that had been destroyed, and thither madam proceeded at once. The man and his wife were not averse to talking over the exciting event, and readily gave all the information she desired. Yes, they knew the girl whom Madame Winthrop described. She had come to them about a week before and seemed worn out and almost ill. She had insisted upon having a room by herself, and as they had but one empty—a small room at the end of a hall up three flights—she had paid a month’s rent in advance and at once taken possession of it. The fire had broken out in the second story and midway of the hall; the building, being old, had burned very rapidly, and only the girls who lodged in the upper story and at the end of the house where Miss Howland had a room had failed to escape. The flames had enveloped the stairway, filled the place with smoke, and they must have been suffocated before the fire reached them. Yes, they were sure that at least a dozen girls had perished—four bodies had already been recovered, although but two could be recognized. A crushed and mangled body had been found lying by the remnants of Miss Howland’s trunk, and so they were quite certain that one of the victims was the girl whom madam was seeking. Madame Winthrop shivered with horror as she listened to this dreadful recital, and then asked if the book in which the names of the lodgers had been registered had been saved. Yes, everything had been saved from the lower story and much of value from the second. Could she see the book? Certainly; they were only too willing to oblige her. It was brought, and the woman, with a face in which there was not an atom of color and a heart quaking with fear and dread, read the name of S. Howland, and at once recognized Salome’s handwriting. She questioned the people very closely, made them describe Salome over and over again and the articles of clothing she had worn, and she was convinced that there could be no mistake. She had not a doubt that Salome had perished most miserably. Instead of going to the hotel to which her husband had directed her, she had, in the bitterness caused by her supposed repudiation, sought to hide herself in this obscure lodging-house, and under the name by which she had been known previous to her marriage.