tapped at the door. It was discreetly opened an inch or two.

"Here are some clothes. When you are dressed, come out. I will wait
in the passage."

"Thank yon," Miss Silver's soft voice said.

The young person whose adventures were so highly sensational doffed her
velveteens and donned the dainty garments of Miss Mildred Kingsland.

All the things were beautifully made and embroidered, marked with the
initials "M. K.," and adorned with the Kingsland crest.

"Miss Mildred Kingsland must be tall and slender, since her dress fits
me so well. Ah, what a change even a black silk dress makes in one's
appearance! He admired me--I saw he did, in jacket and
pantiloons--what will be do, then, in this? Will he fall in love with
me, I wonder?"

One parting peep in the glass, and she opened the door and stepped out
before Sir Everard Kingsland, a dazzling vision of beauty.

He stood and gazed. Could he believe his eyes? Was this
superb-looking woman with the flowing curls, the dark, bright beauty
and imperial mien, the lad in velveteen who had shot the poacher last
night? Why, Cleopatra might have looked like that, in the height of
her regal splendor, or Queen Semiramis, in the glorious days that were
gone.

"This is indeed a transformation," he said, coming forward. "Your