And Miss Gardner's voice was not heard for an hour and then heard no more--but was heard day after day, and her tone was the tone of a person who is acquainted with the management of an establishment and who is giving necessary orders.
And another detail was that William no longer kept to the stable, but seemed now constantly busy within the house.

And another detail was that she became aware that Jack and Mary no longer tried to keep their presence in the house a secret, but went openly forth into the streets together.

And Judge Harvey every day came openly to see them.
But the most bewildering, and yet most clarifying, detail of all was one she observed on the twelfth day since Matilda's going, the twenty-fifth of her own official absence.
On that afternoon she was standing on a chair entertaining herself by gazing through one of her shutters, when she saw Jack crossing Washington Square.

He was walking very soberly, and about the left sleeve of a quiet gray summer suit was a band of crape.
Mrs.De Peyster stepped down from her chair.

The mystery was lifting.
Somebody was dead! But who?
Who?
Early the next morning, while the inmates of the house were occupied in the serving or the eating of breakfast, Mrs.De Peyster was startled by a soft knocking at her door.