"Sister Theresa has left, sir."

Bates had been into Annandale to mail some letters,

and I was staring out upon the park from the library

windows when he entered. Stoddard, having kept watch

the night before, was at home asleep, and Larry was off

somewhere in the house, treasure-hunting. I was feeling

decidedly discouraged over our failure to make any

progress with our investigations, and Bates' news did

not interest me.

"Well, what of it?" I demanded, without turning

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round.

"Nothing, sir; but Miss Devereux has come back!"

"The devil!"

I turned and took a step toward the door.

"I said Miss Devereux," he repeated in dignified rebuke.

"She came up this morning, and the Sister left

at once for Chicago. Sister Theresa depends particularly

upon Miss Devereux,-so I've heard, sir. Miss

Devereux quite takes charge when the Sister goes away.

A few of the students are staying in school through the

holidays."

"You seem full of information," I remarked, taking

another step toward my hat and coat.

"And I've learned something else, sir."

"Well?"

"They all came together, sir."

"Who came; if you please, Bates?"

"Why, the people who've been traveling with Mr.

Pickering came back with him, and Miss Devereux came

with them from Cincinnati. That's what I learned in

the village. And Mr. Pickering is going to stay-"

"Pickering stay!"

"At his cottage on the lake for a while. The reason

is that he's worn out with his work, and wishes quiet.

The other people went back to New York in the car."

"He's opened a summer cottage in mid-winter, has

he?"

I had been blue enough without this news. Marian

Devereux had come back to Annandale with Arthur

Pickering; my faith in her snapped like a reed at this

astounding news. She was now entitled to my grandfather's

property and she had lost no time in returning

as soon as she and Pickering had discussed together at

the Armstrongs' my flight from Annandale. Her return

could have no other meaning than that there was a

strong tie between them, and he was now to stay on the

ground until I should be dispossessed and her rights

established. She had led me to follow her, and my forfeiture

had been sealed by that stolen interview at the

Armstrongs'. It was a black record, and the thought of

it angered me against myself and the world.

"Tell Mr. Donovan that I've gone to St. Agatha's,"

I said, and I was soon striding toward the school.

A Sister admitted me. I heard the sound of a piano,

somewhere in the building, and I consigned the inventor

of pianos to hideous torment as scales were

pursued endlessly up and down the keys. Two girls

passing through the hall made a pretext of looking for

a book and came in and exclaimed over their inability

to find it with much suppressed giggling.




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