set and hard as if carved in flint.

Field instinctively recoiled. "His wife!" he exclaimed. "Why, man alive,
_you_ are the madman. His wife died years ago."

"No," said Gard. "Teddy Mahr's mother died. His wife is living, and is
in that next room."

"What's the meaning of this?" Field demanded.

"A pretty plain meaning," Gard rejoined. "The woman escaped from the
asylum where she was confined. According to her own story, she had kept
track of her husband from the newspapers. Mahr couldn't divorce her, but
he married again, secure in his belief that his first marriage would
never be discovered. Mad as she was, she knew the situation, and she
planned revenge. Dr. Malky, of the Ottawa Asylum, is here. We sent for
him. The woman has been recognized by Mahr's butler as the one he
admitted. There is no possible doubt. And her own confession, while it
is incomplete in some respects, is nevertheless undoubtedly true.

"But, Field, this woman is hopelessly demented. There is nothing that
can be done for her. She must be returned to the institution. I want to
keep the knowledge of her identity from Mahr's son. Why poison the whole
of his young life; why wreck his trust in his father? Convince yourself
in every way, Mr. Field, but the part of mercy is a conspiracy of
silence. Let it be known that an escaped lunatic did the killing--a
certain unknown Mrs. Welles--and let Brencherly give the reporters all
they want. For them it's a good story, anyway--such facts as these, for
instance: he happened by in time to see an attack upon another woman on
a bench opposite Mahr's house, and to hear her boast of her acts. But I