Once more Mrs. De Peyster did not feel called upon to make response.

“I have noted particularly that Matilda does not seem cordial and forgiving,” Mary was continuing, when the prodigal brother himself dropped in.  With her pretty, determined manner, Mary renewed her efforts at reconciliation in the estranged family.  Mr. Pyecroft was penitent without being humble, and whenever a question was put directly to Mrs. De Peyster his was the tongue that answered; he was quite certain his sister Angelica would relent and receive him back into her respect and love once he had fully proved his worthiness.

“I must say, Mr. Simpson, that I think you have an admirably forgiving nature,” declared Mary.  It was clear, though she was silent on the matter, that she considered his sisters to have cold, hard, New England hearts.

Mr. Pyecroft withdrew; and Mary, in the high-pitched voice required by the invalid’s misfortune, read “Wormwood” for an hour—­until Jack came to the door and announced that Judge Harvey had again called on them.  Alone, Mrs. De Peyster pondered her poignant problem, What should she do?—­wishful that Matilda were present to talk the affair over with her.  But Matilda was still busy in the kitchen with the odd jobs of night-end.

Toward ten o’clock Mr. Pyecroft came in again.  He stood and gazed silently down upon her.  The one electric light showed her an odd, dry smile on Mr. Pyecroft’s face.

“What is it?” Mrs. De Peyster asked in fear.

“Really, Angelica, you’re not half so clever as I believed you.”

“What is it?” she repeated huskily.

“This pearl.”  And from a pocket he drew out the pendant he had appropriated the night before in Mrs. Gilbert’s boarding-house.  “I thought we ought to be prepared with more cash in hand for our get-away when we decide to make it.  So an hour ago I slipped out the back way, and made for a safe pawnbroker I know of.  Angelica, you’re easy.  This pearl is nothing but imitation.  And you fell for it!” He shook his head sorrowingly, chidingly.  “Here’s one case where remorse might be highly proper—­and safest; better just mail it back to the party you lifted it from.”

With good-humored contempt he tossed the pendant upon the bed.  Mrs. De Peyster clutched it and thrust it beneath her pillow.

“I believe, Angelica, my dear,” he commented, “that in view of the capacity this pearl incident has revealed, it is strictly up to me to assume charge of every detail of our plan.”

He sat down and in his fluent manner discussed the day’s developments and their preparations for the future; and he was still talking when, fifteen minutes later, the door opened and Matilda entered.  Her face, of late so often ashen, was ashen as though almost from habit.

“Oh, oh,” she quavered, “the servants’ bell rang—­and I answered it, like I’d been told to do—­and in stepped four men—­two of them the policemen we let in last night, and two men I never saw before—­and they asked if they might speak to my brother who was visiting me.  And I—­I promised to call him down.  Oh, ma’—­Angelica—­”