“I know,” said Beth, quickly.  “It’s Eliza Parsons.  But Tom was mistaken.  He saw her in the dim light of a corridor, and the resemblance confused him.”

“I’ve seen her since,” remarked Tom, “and the likeness is really bewildering.  It’s only her manner that is different.”

“When I first saw her, before Tom came, I was astonished at her resemblance to Mrs. Rogers,” announced Beth.  “I have never seen Lucy, but I know Mrs. Rogers, and it seemed to me that Eliza was exactly like her in features.  Mr. Forbes and I first saw her riding in a buggy with Mr. Hopkins.  That was before either of us knew she was employed at Elmhurst.  You see she isn’t one of the servants who come much in contact with the family; she does the mending and takes charge of the linen room.”

Beth then related the manner in which they first noticed Eliza, and how they had discovered her to be a spy in the service of Mr. Hopkins.

The detective was much interested in the recital and seemed surprised that he had not been informed of this before.

“Of course,” said Kenneth, “the girl is not Lucy Rogers.  It is not possible they could be the same.”

“Why not?” asked Mr. Burke.

“Well, Lucy was a gentle, sweet country girl, of little experience in life.  Her nature was so susceptible, so very sensitive, that when she discovered Tom Gates, whom she loved, to be guilty of a forgery, she worried herself into an attack of brain-fever; or at least she became insane, reproaching herself for having driven the boy to this dreadful deed.  Under the influence of her mania she wandered away from her home, and has not been seen since.  That’s the story of Lucy Rogers.  Now look at Eliza Parsons.  She appeared the very day after Lucy’s disappearance, to be sure; but that proves they are not the same person.  For Eliza is not demented.  She is a cold, hard woman of the world, in spite of her tender years.  She is doing the work of an experienced spy, while any deceit was foreign to Lucy’s nature.  Instead of being plunged in grief Eliza is happy and gay, reckless of consequences and fully self-possessed.  She is also well and healthy, to all appearances.  Taking all these things into consideration, it is impossible to connect the two girls in any way—­save the coincidence of personal resemblance.”

Mr. Burke listened to this quietly, and then shook his head.

“Your arguments all tend to make me suspect that she is Lucy Rogers,” he said, quietly.

For a moment there was an impressive silence, while everyone eagerly, inquiringly or doubtfully looked at the detective, according to their diverse acceptance of his statement.

“In pursuance of the task set me,” began Mr. Burke, “I had met with such absolute failure to trace the missing girl that I began to suspect no ordinary conditions were attached to this case.  In my experience, which covers many years, I have had occasion to study sudden dementia, caused by shocks of grief or horror, and I have come to comprehend the fact that the human mind, once unbalanced, is liable to accomplish many surprising feats.  Usually the victim is absolutely transformed, and becomes the very opposite, in many ways, of the normal personality.  I imagine this is what happened to Lucy Rogers.”