"Let us go in," he whispered.

We entered softly: the apartment was darkened, but a dainty crib which
occupied the centre of the floor could be dimly seen. As we stepped in,
his nurse, who was bending over the cot, moved with hushed footsteps away
to give us room.

There he lay, my dear, sick lamb! I was so glad to be permitted to see
him. But the result of no ordinary sickness met my eye.

Great purple rings had settled around his closed eyelids, his lips were
blue, his sweet mouth partly opened, he seemed to breathe with
difficulty. I could not speak. Mr. Bristed turned down the coverlet from
the little shoulders.

"Look, Miss Reef," said he hoarsely, his voice quivering with agitation,
pointing to some hideous marks on the little sufferer's throat--"those
are _his_ finger marks."

I sickened. What crime was this that he hinted at so strangely? But the
insinuation was too incredible. The thought that he was working on my
credulity exasperated me.

"If you want me to leave your house, Mr. Bristed, command me and I will
go, but you cannot force me to believe this horrid inference."

He must have felt the disdain with which I spurned him, for he turned
upon his heel and left the room.

I then spoke to Herbert. At the sound of my voice he moved, and I seated