Five more minutes passed in a silent conflict. A knock announced the return of the maid; and the girl reentered, placing upon the table a visiting-card:—
DENISE RYLAND
Helen Cumberly started to her feet with a stifled exclamation and turned to the maid; her face, to which the color slowly had been returning, suddenly blanched anew.
“Denise Ryland!” she muttered, still holding the card in her hand, “why—that’s Mrs. Leroux’s friend, with whom she had been staying in Paris! Whatever can it mean?”
“Shall I show her in here, please?” asked the maid.
“Yes, in here,” replied Helen, absently; and, scarcely aware that she had given instructions to that effect, she presently found herself confronted by the lady of the boat-train!
“Miss Cumberly?” said the new arrival in a pleasant American voice.
“Yes—I am Helen Cumberly. Oh! I am so glad to know you at last! I have often pictured you;
