Mary, through her agitation, was aware that they were both
designating the unknown visitor by a vague pronoun, instead of
the conventional formula which, till then, had kept their
allusions within the bounds of custom. And at the same moment
her mind caught at the suggestion of the folded paper.

"But he must have a name! Where is the paper?"

She moved to the desk, and began to turn over the scattered
documents that littered it. The first that caught her eye was an
unfinished letter in her husband's hand, with his pen lying
across it, as though dropped there at a sudden summons.

"My dear Parvis,"--who was Parvis?--"I have just received your
letter announcing Elwell's death, and while I suppose there is
now no farther risk of trouble, it might be safer--"

She tossed the sheet aside, and continued her search; but no
folded paper was discoverable among the letters and pages of
manuscript which had been swept together in a promiscuous heap,
as if by a hurried or a startled gesture.

"But the kitchen-maid SAW him. Send her here," she commanded,
wondering at her dullness in not thinking sooner of so simple a
solution.

Trimmle, at the behest, vanished in a flash, as if thankful to be
out of the room, and when she reappeared, conducting the agitated
underling, Mary had regained her self-possession, and had her