But the answer was not to come from Paslow. Even while he opened his mouth to speak, Jerry appeared on the lawn with two ladies. One was Dinah, as they could see by the evening-dress; the other a tall, slim, fair-haired woman, fashionably arrayed in walking-costume. The moonlight was strong, but neither Beatrice nor Paslow could tell who the strange woman was. "Hullo, Vivian!" shouted Jerry; "here is Miss Carr, who wants to see you." He would have said more, but was drawn back by Dinah, who apparently was still jealous of the stranger. Beatrice remembered that this was the woman with whom Jerry had been speaking during the day, the same that had awakened the jealousy of Dinah. Also, she was the daughter of the ex-butler. She advanced with gliding steps, and looked like a beautiful lithe tigress stealing towards her prey. With Dinah, still jealous, Jerry after that one abrupt introduction disappeared down the avenue, probably to be scolded. But Beatrice did not look at the retreating lovers, nor indeed at the advancing Miss Carr, whose foot was now on the lowest step of the terrace. All her attention was concentrated on Vivian Paslow, who stood at the top of the steps as though frozen into stone. The woman came up the steps, and was now so near that Beatrice could see the smile on her fair face. "You!" said Vivian hoarsely, and fell back a pace. "Myself," said Miss Carr, "and no ghost either." Beatrice rose with a bound, and felt a sudden jealous anger surge in her heart. She looked from one to the other imperiously. "Who is this woman?" she asked the cowering man. "My--my--wife," he said in low, broken tones. "God help me, my wife come back from the dead!" CHAPTER XVII A STORY OF THE PAST Miss Carr, or Miss Orchard, or Mrs. Paslow--Beatrice thought of her by all these three names--smiled quietly when her husband made the confession, and sank gracefully into the seat he had vacated. She was certainly a handsome woman, and if not entirely a lady, was an extremely good imitation of the same. Vivian still stood as in a dream, staring at the wife he had believed to be dead and buried, and Beatrice stared alternately at him and at the strange woman. A silence ensued, for each of the three was thinking hard. Beatrice was the first to break silence. "Will you explain?" she asked Vivian quietly. "I think," he answered in a harsh, dry tone, "that my wife had better explain. I have the certificate of her death, and----" "And you can consider it so much waste-paper. The woman who was buried was my double," said Mrs. Paslow composedly. "You cannot deceive me in that way, Maud. I saw you ill in bed." "And so I was. I had a bad attack of influenza," said his wife, with a calm smile. "Oh, my illness was genuine enough; but I did not die,--although I appeared to do so, for reasons connected with a second marriage."