the voice of the woman who burned your papers!"
"It is my mother!" Pierce, suddenly coming to himself, turned with staring eyes on Trant and darted from the study. He returned an instant later and closed the door behind him.
"Trant," he faltered, "my mother says that the voice that she—that we all—have just heard is the voice of the woman who was in the study Wednesday."
The psychologist impatiently stopped the excited man with a gesture. "You still see Iris?"
"Yes," the answer came, after a considerable pause.
"She has not left the library? Tell us what she is doing."
"She turns toward the clock, which is striking three. The door bell rings. Both the maids are out, so Iris lays down her book and goes to the door. At the door is a tall, dark man, all alone. He is a Spaniard from the mountains in Honduras, and his name is Canonigo Penol."
An indrawing of his breath, sharp almost as a whistle, brought the gaze of all upon Penol; but the eyes of the Spaniard, starting in superstitious terror from his livid face, saw only the girl.
"Penol is not known to Iris, but he has come to see her. She is surprised. She leads him to the library. His manner makes her uneasy," the voice, now uninterrupted by Trant's questions, went on with great rapidity. "He asks her if she remembers that she lived among Indians. Iris remembers that. He asks if she remembers that before that she lived with
