One of the cards which Diana held read Ernst Veldt, M.D., the other was that of Luther Wrenn, Attorney at Law.

"Be seated, gentlemen," said Diana. "I know the urgency of your errand and, therefore, I would not detain you while I dressed. This is my friend, Mrs. Lowell. We were just finishing breakfast when the shocking news was brought to us. Mrs. Lowell, Dr. Veldt and Mr. Wrenn."

The portentous expression in the face of the two visitors did not lighten as they bowed and took possession of the chairs Diana indicated. Thrills of dread were coursing down her spine and her knees were weak enough to cause her to be glad to take her own seat. She felt a horrible uncertainty as to her own responsibility in the tragedy.

The physician, as the most aggrieved party, spoke first: "Mr. Loring was my patient," he said, speaking with some accent. "From what his valet tells us you should be able to throw some light on what has occurred." The speaker's frown darkened as he spoke. This wretched girl had robbed him, no one could tell of how much. "Mr. Loring did not know you, had never seen you—"

"Let me question the young lady," interrupted the lawyer. If this girl in the rich garments and the luxurious suite were an adventuress planning to get money from the sick man, she had staged herself well. She was beautiful and her eyes now were large with horror, perhaps with guilt.

"How did you manage to get into Mr. Loring's apartment?"

"I wrote him a note requesting him to see me," faltered Diana. "He is—he is a sort of relation of mine."

"It would be a little difficult to tell just what relation, I dare say," put in the doctor, nodding. "Odd that you couldn't let a sick man get a bit acclimated on his return before you forced yourself, an utter stranger, into his rooms—"

"Wait a bit, Dr. Veldt," said the lawyer, interrupting again. "Let us have your full name, please," he added, turning to the culprit.

"Diana Wilbur," said the girl. "Did you not find the note I wrote Mr. Loring?"

"No. The valet followed his master's orders and destroyed the note as soon as you were gone. Marlitt is completely unstrung. He couldn't remember anything about your communication except that Mr. Loring told him that he was about to have a visit from a schoolgirl. Marlitt said that you finally left the room in tears and that his master collapsed."

"And it looks like manslaughter, that's what it looks like, manslaughter," said the doctor angrily.

Diana's very lips grew pale. "Oh, gentlemen," she said, and her quiet voice trembled, "please be very careful what you say. Supposing anything about me should get into the papers."

"Yes, Dr. Veldt," said the lawyer quickly, "we should be careful in our accusations. Remember that Mr. Loring had sustained two strokes before his return. His interview with me yesterday morning was a draught upon him."

Diana turned toward the lawyer and clasped her hands. "Oh, yes," she said. "He told me he had destroyed his will—"

"Aha," said the doctor, nodding his big gray head again, "we begin to see light. His will. That is what you were interested in, eh? A sort of relation, eh?"

"Gentlemen," said Mrs. Lowell suddenly taking part in the interview, "I think it might help you in your judgments to know that Miss Wilbur is the only child of Charles Wilbur, the steel man of Philadelphia."

Her announcement had a dramatic effect. The doctor's mouth opened mutely as he stared. The lawyer's brow cleared and he looked curiously at Diana and bowed.

"You see," said the girl unsteadily, "it would be dreadful if anything about me in connection with this shocking occurrence should get into the papers, for I meant no harm. Mr. Loring was a distant connection of my father's and I went to him in behalf of some one else—" she hesitated.

"Can you tell why your visit should have so excited him?" asked the lawyer.

"Yes. It was because I spoke of his daughter."

"Will you repeat to us just what you said to him?"

"I will tell you. It is a matter for a lawyer."

"Miss Wilbur," said Dr. Veldt, rising and speaking in a voice which he strove not to make too unlike his previous manner, "we cannot tell, until the post mortem takes place, just what caused this death, but I hope the result of the investigation may be enlightenment that will set your mind at rest. Since you wish to speak with Mr. Wrenn, I will leave you and hope that he will be able to assist you in your problem, whatever it may be. Good-morning." And with what grace he could muster, the physician left the room.

Diana sank back in her chair and Mrs. Lowell saw her exhaustion.

"Shall I tell our story to Mr. Wrenn?" she asked.

The girl nodded.

"Miss Wilbur has generously thrown herself into the thick of a problem which has been absorbing me in the last weeks," she began, and then she proceeded to tell the details of their experience.

The lawyer listened with close attention. "So, on the impulse of the moment, we came to Boston, arriving yesterday morning, and Miss Wilbur's request to see Mr. Loring was met by an appointment by him for three-thirty, which she kept."

"He was very gracious to me," said Diana, "and I was very hopeful at first." She stopped to control the quivering of her lips.

"How did you proceed?" asked the lawyer kindly.

"I told him the boy's story, and he advised me to keep out of that sort of entanglement in another's affairs. I was frightened then, but I continued because, of course, I could not relinquish the matter there, and finally, I told him that the boy was his grandson." Diana's voice stopped again, and she shook her head.

"He became excited, heated?" asked the lawyer encouragingly.

"No; cold, stern. He—he repulsed me and utterly repudiated the whole matter. He said there was not even the—the echo of a memory left." Diana lifted her handkerchief to her eyes.

"Poor little Helen. I knew her well," said the lawyer thoughtfully.

"You did know Bertie's mother?" said Mrs. Lowell with interest. "Then you will be able to judge of the sketch a lonely little boy made of her."

"We had put this matter into the hands of Mrs. Lowell's husband, who is a lawyer in New York," said Diana. "We expected to have a long search for Bertie's grandfather, but, as Mrs. Lowell has told you, my mother, all unconsciously gave us the information we needed, and then—Oh, Mr. Wrenn, how could I do otherwise, and yet it is—so dreadful to think—" Again Diana covered her eyes.

"Don't think it, Miss Wilbur," said the lawyer decidedly. "You did what was womanly and brave. Had you come to me, instead of going directly to Mr. Loring, it might possibly have been better, but how can we know? My client and old friend was immovably set against the daughter who defied him, and if the intense feeling which your plea roused in him was a boomerang that laid him low, that is not your fault, and couldn't possibly have been foreseen. Now, dismiss that fear from your thoughts. A condition has arisen which perhaps has not occurred to either of you ladies. From what you tell me, it looks as if the boy who has interested you may really be Herbert Loring's grandson. That will have to be proved, and doubtless the avaricious uncle has the proofs if they exist. That once accomplished, this lad will be sole heir to a considerable fortune, for there is no will."

Mrs. Lowell and Diana exchanged a look.

"Mr. Wrenn," said Mrs. Lowell quickly, "Mr. Gayne is capable of any brutality. He will see Mr. Loring's death in the papers—"

"But he does not know that there is no will," the lawyer reminded her, "and he will probably come to me with proofs that the boy should inherit. That would naturally be his next step. Do you think the boy's mentality has been hopelessly impaired?"

"I do not," said Mrs. Lowell, and her face grew radiant. "When once the slave is freed, God will take care of Bertie's mentality."

The lawyer bent his heavy brows upon her gravely. "Young Herbert has a good friend in you," he said.

"Oh, Mr. Wrenn," exclaimed Diana fervently, "if you can get Mrs. Lowell to supervise his life for the next five years, you will do the best thing that could be done for him in all the world."

The lawyer nodded, still with thoughtful eyes on Mrs. Lowell's speaking face. She was thanking God as she sat there that the crushing burden was being lifted from one of His little ones.

"Mr. Loring's funeral will be a rather sad and perfunctory ceremony," said Mr. Wrenn. "For several years he has absented himself from this country most of the time. He is not rich in even poor relations. I remember a few names which were mentioned in the will which was destroyed yesterday, and I am sure he would wish me to respect his wishes and give moderate sums to those beneficiaries, for he stated that he should not change that clause. I wonder if you ladies might be willing to stay over for the funeral. I am certain that Mr. Gayne will attend it and see me afterward."

A compassion that swept through Diana at remembrance of the tired eyes and the helpless figure in its rich wrappings caused her to give her consent to remain for the funeral.

She wired her mother that, being in Boston for a few days, she should attend that ceremony, and was disconcerted to receive a return message stating that her mother would also attend, her father not having returned from his cruise. She showed this to Mrs. Lowell, and the latter was privately amused at the consternation betrayed by the girl at the prospect of welcoming a parent.

"Of course, it won't be necessary to trouble her with any details," said Mrs. Lowell, and Diana pressed her hand in token that she appreciated the comfort of her perception.

The first thought Mrs. Lowell had, upon seeing Mrs. Wilbur, was: "What a handsome man Diana's father must be," for the girl did not get her beauty from this plump little lady with the short nose, wide mouth, and small eyes. Even Mrs. Wilbur's grand air, erect carriage, and perfect dress could not make her a stately figure, although it was her habit to consider herself one, and her plump little jeweled hand wielded a lorgnette in a manner which entitled her to a Roman nose and impressive height. Her maid, LÉonie, was with her, and looked after her mistress with what seemed to Mrs. Lowell an amazing knowledge of her needs and wishes.

"Look at your hands!" was Mrs. Wilbur's greeting of her daughter. "I know you have not worn gloves."

Diana bent down to her in all meekness. "Not continuously, Mamma," she said. "They will very soon blanch again."

"You're coming right home with me after this sad, sad affair, of course," continued Mrs. Wilbur. "How strange that you happened to be in Boston, and fortunate, too. Your father would have liked us to show this attention." By this time they were in Mrs. Wilbur's suite in the hotel, and she turned to Mrs. Lowell. "I am grateful to you for taking care of this child of mine," she said. "I don't like to tell her how well she looks, for it encourages her in such a prank as this island summer."

"It has proved a good plan for her, I'm sure," responded Mrs. Lowell.

"But enough is enough," said Mrs. Wilbur. "She is rested now and our friends are always asking for her. No more island."

"Dear Mamma, do not be so determined, for Mrs. Lowell and I just came here for a few days and I shall have to return and gather my belongings together at least."

"Very well, then I will go with you and look at it myself."

Mrs. Lowell could with difficulty repress a smile at the way Diana's eyes enlarged with apprehension.

"You would not like it, dear, you would not like it," she said earnestly.

"Then why do you?" responded her mother defiantly.

"Because I like roughing it. I like camping."

"Well," sighed Mrs. Wilbur, "I am so near, I may as well look at it."

"What would you do in a house without a bathroom?" asked Diana.

The blank, incredulous look with which Mrs. Wilbur met her daughter's question made Mrs. Lowell expect her parted lips to utter: "There ain't no such animal." But the lady merely said, reproachfully: "How can you like it there, Diana?"

"My ancestors had no bathtubs," replied the girl. "Then, besides, we have the ocean."

"Well," sighed Mrs. Wilbur, "the funeral comes first. I suppose Mr. Loring was confined to his room so you couldn't happen to see him about the hotel."

Diana cast a glance at Mrs. Lowell before she replied: "I did see him, though, Mamma." The girl felt very certain that the episode could never be finished without this fact transpiring.

"You did?" Mrs. Wilbur sat up with great interest. "That explains why you have seemed to me a little sad ever since I came. You saw the poor man. How did it happen?"

"I wrote him a note and asked him if I could call. I reminded him that we were related—" She hesitated.

"Why, Diana Wilbur, I never heard of anything so extraordinary! You dear lamb, how pleased your father will be! Mrs. Lowell," she turned to that lady, "do you wonder I'm proud of this child? Do you believe that one young girl in a thousand would take the trouble to pay such an attention to an elderly relative whom she had never seen?"

Mrs. Lowell was saved from the embarrassment of replying, for Diana spoke hurriedly:

"It isn't what you think, Mamma. I went to him on an errand—some one else's errand."

Mrs. Wilbur put up her lorgnette the better to view her daughter's crimsoning cheeks and quivering lips.

"Tell me what it was, at once," she commanded. "Who dared to make use of you in such a way?"

"No one," protested the girl. "It was my own idea, but please don't ask me to tell you of it now. I have had such a shock—I am really not able to talk about it yet."

"Very well, then, I will wait." Mrs. Wilbur's dilated nostrils expressed her displeasure. "But this proves that you are, just as I have felt, too young to be wandering about on your own. I should not have allowed you to leave me." As she finished, the mother swept Mrs. Lowell with a condemning glance in which she withdrew all her previous approval of that lady.

Mrs. Lowell understood it, but she spoke pleasantly: "When the right time comes for you to learn what brought us to Boston, you will find that your daughter deserves only approval," she said in her quiet, cheerful manner.

Mrs. Wilbur's nostrils still dilated and she used her fan in a majestic silence.