Lord Ivon and his party left for Washington the next day, and Jewel said to herself that they did not go one day too soon for their own good, for there was murder in her heart toward the beautiful Azalia Brooke.

"If she had stayed any longer, and Laurie had continued to show his preference for her so plainly, I believe I should have poisoned her," she muttered, angrily, to herself.

She had heard with great satisfaction of the beauty's betrothal to Lord Clive, and fearful lest Laurie had missed hearing it, she repeated it to him with malicious delight, eliciting the quiet answer that Lord Clive was a very fortunate man.

Jewel pouted charmingly, but he took no notice. Ever since last night he had been thinking of the words Lord Clive had said to Azalia Brooke:

"It was when you were an American girl."

She had answered:

"Yes, before Lord Ivon sent Mr. Kelso to seek me."

Tossing on a sleepless pillow between the dawn and the daylight, he had been ceaselessly asking himself:

"What did they mean? I was under the impression that she had never been in America before."

It seemed to him that he could not know rest nor peace until he found out what Azalia Brooke had referred to in her answer to Lord Clive.

That afternoon found him in the office of the noted lawyer, Raynold Clinton.

"I wish to ask you some questions," he said. "You were in England last winter, and you were intimate with Lord Ivon?"

"Yes."

"There is a mystery about Miss Azalia Brooke that I wish to penetrate. It is generally believed that she has never been in America before this time, but I think you could tell a different story if you would."

The lawyer looked at him, surprised to see how white and eager his face looked.

"My dear fellow, I can not see what concern this is of yours," he said, hesitatingly. "You are not in love with Miss Brooke, as she is engaged to Lord Clive and you to Miss Fielding. As for what is hinted about a mystery, Lord Ivon does not deny that his great-granddaughter is an American girl, although I admit that he does not care to dwell on the circumstance."

"You will tell me all that you know, Mr. Clinton? Believe me, I have a vital interest in this matter."

The lawyer could see that Laurie Meredith was terribly in earnest. His sparkling brown eyes were dark with feeling, his face pale with excitement.

"Really, there is not much to tell," said the lawyer. "Lord Ivon had a younger son who ran away to America, and was disowned by his family. But his elder and second son both died, as also his grandchildren. Then he sent his lawyer to America to seek his disinherited son, or his descendants. He brought this girl back, the last descendant of the house of Ivon. 'Sole daughter of her father's house and heart.'"

"Her name?" Laurie demanded, hoarsely.

"Azalia Brooke," replied Mr. Clinton.

"You are sure, quite sure, Mr. Clinton?"

"That is what I was told," replied the lawyer, with so truthful an air that the listener could not doubt him.

"Perhaps you can tell me where she lived before Lord Ivon's lawyer found her, Mr. Clinton?"

"It was in the South. I do not remember the name of the place. Indeed, I am not sure I ever heard. It was not talked about much, because Lord Ivon seemed to have a marked distaste to the subject."

"I thank you for your information, Mr. Clinton. I shall make no improper use of it, yet there may be a startling dÉnouement to the story you have told me. If so, you will understand what brought me here to-day," the young man said, with an earnestness that impressed the lawyer very much and made him very curious.

But Laurie Meredith went away without confiding anything, for he felt that such a step would be premature.

But his brain was reeling with the wild suspicions that chased each other through it.

"I am almost persuaded that the girl is Flower herself!" he thought. "Yet, in that case, she knows me—knows me as the husband for whom she ceased so soon to care, and secure in her fancied sure disguise, laughs at me and my love—even pledges her faith to another before my eyes! Who could have believed that lovely, gentle little Flower could be so heartless and wicked? Will she dare to marry him, knowing herself bound to me? Yet she told him her lover had proved false, and that she had heard that he was dead. What if there has been treachery somewhere? Jewel—she has loved me always, and there has been something of the tiger-cat in her jealousy of Azalia Brooke. What if—"

He could think collectedly no longer, but flung himself down on his bed, while wild, blissful visions chased each other through his brain.

Jewel was expecting her lover that evening, and he came promptly. She thought she had never seen him so handsome, his brown eyes were so bright, his cheeks glowing with feverish color.

Artfully he led her on to talk of her past life, and at last said, curiously:

"Do you know, dear Jewel, that you have never told me the name of your birthplace?"

"It was Springville, Georgia," she replied, without a suspicion of the anxiety with which he awaited her reply.

But when he talked on indifferent subjects awhile, he took leave, and the next day she was astonished to receive a short note from him, bidding her a hasty adieu, as he had been called away from the city for a few days on a matter of business.

"He has followed her—he has gone to Washington to be near Azalia Brooke!" she exclaimed, angrily; and her eyes blazed with such intense jealous fury that she seemed on the point of going mad. A terrible purpose began to form in her mind.