Juliette sat upright, with a gleam of expectancy in her pale-blue eyes, and the next moment a servant appeared at the door, saying that a man wished to see Mrs. Falconer a few moments. “Show him in here. It is no doubt some message from uncle,” quickly exclaimed Juliette. Instantly there darted into Pansy’s mind a quick suspicion: “She has laid another trap for me.” And she braced herself to bear anything unflinchingly. The door opened again, and Mr. Finley, the grocer, her hated stepfather, entered the room. Pansy grew pale, but, still holding her book, she arose in a stately way, fixing on the intruder a cold glance of inquiry. Mr. Finley, coming in from the outer daylight into the semigloom of the parlor, did not at first see very clearly. He bowed profoundly to both ladies, in an awkward way, and began to speak briskly: “Mrs. Falconer, I am a grocer, and enjoyed the custom and confidence of the late Mrs. Ives. I have called to solicit----” He stopped and stared. The beautiful face looking at him struck him with fear and terror. He made a retrograde movement toward the door, keeping his bewildered eyes on her face, and then he caught a glance from Juliette’s eyes that suddenly loosened his tongue. He stopped short, exclaiming: “Heavens, I can’t be mistaken! It--is--she! Mrs. Falconer, excuse me, please, but are you not my missing stepdaughter, Pansy Laurens?” A gay little laugh trilled over Pansy’s lips as she blandly assured him that she had never seen him before in her life, that her maiden name was Miss Wilcox, and that she was a native of Louisville. “This is the second time I’ve been told of my likeness to Pansy Laurens. It is a coincidence, nothing more. Such things often happen,” she observed carelessly. “By the way, you called to solicit custom for your business, I believe. You may leave your card, and I will refer it to my husband.” Thus coolly dismissed, and quite ignoring the request for his card, Mr. Finley stumbled out, with a fixed conviction in his mind that Pansy Laurens had never been drowned at all, but had married this rich man and come back to triumph over them all. He understood now why Juliette had sent him that little note, saying that her uncle’s wife would be glad to have him call, as she wished to make arrangements with him about supplying the family groceries. “She recognized her, and wished for me to do so, unaided by any hint from her,” he thought and wondered: “What ought I to do about it? I hope I shall see Miss Ives soon, for this discovery places a mine of gold in my reach, and I must speedily find out in what way I am to make the most of it. Miss Ives is poor now, and Norman Wylde is comparatively so, as he will have no money until his father dies. I do not know which I should blackmail--Falconer or his wife.” CHAPTER XX. AN EVENING OF SUSPENSE. When Pansy went to dress for dinner she was so particular that the maid smiled, and thought: