In the next instant Mr.Pyecroft had Mrs.De Peyster upon her feet, with firm, deft, resistless hands had slipped the long coat upon her, had put the hat upon her head and pushed in the pins, had drawn the thick veil down over her face--and had thrust her again down into her chair.
"Matilda, not a word!" he ordered, in a quick, authoritative whisper.
"Miss Harmon, not a word! Mrs.De Peyster, call up your nerve; you'll need it, for you know that Mayfair is the cleverest reporter in Park Row.

And now, Mrs.Jack De Peyster,"-- for Mary stood nearest the door,--"let them in." Mrs.De Peyster half-rose in ultimate consternation.
"Oh, please--please--you're not going to let them in!" "We don't dare keep them out!" Mr.Pyecroft pressed Mrs.De Peyster firmly back into her chair.

"Keep your nerve!" he repeated sharply.
"Open the door, please,--quick!" Mary cast a questioning glance at Jack, who, bewildered, nodded his consent.

She unlocked the door..