were swollen and cracked with fever, her cheeks scarlet and dry. She was
alone in a narrow, plain room, sparsely but newly furnished. On a
dressing table an expensive gold-fitted traveling bag stood open. Over a
bent-wood chair hung a costly dark blue traveling suit, and the garments
scattered about the room were of the finest make and material. On the
floor lay a diamond-encrusted watch, ticking faintly, and a gold mesh
bag, evidently flung from under the pillow by the movements of the
sleeper. This much the landlady noticed as she softly opened the
unlocked door and stood upon the threshold.

"Dear, dear!" she murmured, and, habit strong upon her, she gathered up
the scattered garments, folded them neatly, and hung up the gown in the
scanty closet, having first examined the tailor's mark on the collar.
"Dear, dear!" she said again. "It's noon; now whatever can be the
matter? Is she sick? Looks like fever." Again she hesitated and paused
to pick up a sheer handkerchief-linen blouse, upon the Irish lace collar
of which a circle of pinhead diamonds held a monogram of the same
material. "H'm," ruminated the landlady. "Martin! Yes, there's an 'M,'
and a 'Y' and a 'J'--h'm! She said she's a friend of Mrs. Bell's, but
Mrs. Bell has been in Europe six months. Wonder who her friends are, if
she's going to be sick?"

She moved toward the bed to examine her guest more closely, but her
attention was distracted by the luxuriousness of the objects in the
dressing case. She fingered them with awe and observed the marking. She
stooped for the purse and watch, which she examined with equal
attention. Once more her eyes turned to the flushed face on the tumbled
pillow. The sleeper had not awakened. The woman leaned over and took one
of the restless hands in hers. "It's fever, sure," she said. At the
touch and sound of her voice the other opened her eyes, wide with sudden