A deadly sickness seized Italy the moment that she entered the room that had been the scene of such a fateful tragedy. “You are trembling, Italy. You should not have come here,” cried Mrs. Gardner, fearing she would faint. But the girl answered huskily: “Do not fear for me; I am excited, that is all.” They had sent for Mrs. Smith, and at this moment she entered elaborately dressed, and gazing in surprise at her elderly visitor and his two veiled companions. Mr. Gardner rose and said stiffly: “Mrs. Smith, this young lady wishes to see you alone a few minutes. Can you take her to any room close by?” “Certainly, sir.” But the woman looked her vast surprise as Italy’s veiled figure rose up to follow. She opened a door to the right. “We can go into the library,” she said. Italy went with her, and the door closed. Then the girl threw back her veil, disclosing her beautiful, pallid face. “Do you remember me?” she asked nervously. The woman started wildly. “So you are alive?” she cried, in a voice of keen relief. “Oh, how often I have wondered over your fate since that night when you disappeared so strangely from this house!” “Oh, tell me of that night!” cried Italy tremulously. “It is all a blank to me from the minute I fell down senseless after witnessing the murder of Harold Severn, until I was rudely awakened by a policeman at dead of night, wandering about the streets of Boston clad only in a thin night-dress.” “Oh, then you must have got up and gone away in your sleep. I always thought that must have been the way of it. It did not look like any one would have carried you off like that!” And while Italy listened eagerly she continued: “You were unconscious so long that I carried you to my own room, undressed you, and put you to bed. Presently you roused up in a dazed sort of way, and I gave you a very light sedative and you fell asleep like a tired child. So I left you and went back down-stairs, for, of course, I was frightened to death at what had happened, and did not want a sensation in the house over a murder. With the help of a trusty servant, I got the body safely out of the house, and we took it to the river and threw it in. Then, returning, we took up the parlor carpet, and hurriedly removed all traces of the crime. Then I went up-stairs again to see after you. To my horror, you were gone in your night-dress, leaving your clothing all there.” “I am at times a somnambulist. I must have gone away in my sleep and walked the long distance to Boston without waking,” explained Italy. “Yes, that must have been the way. I often wandered what became of you, and, oh, I was so thankful you did not betray what had happened and send the police here!” cried Mrs. Smith. “I ought to have done so,” answered Italy sternly. Then her voice grew tremulous as she asked: “You did not think I committed the murder, did you?” “Laws, no, miss, for to tell you the truth, I saw it done myself.”