“My!” said Gladys, but she followed Wollaston and Maria inside.

Wollaston began searching the names above the rows of bells on the wall of the vestibule.

“What did you say the name was?” he asked of Maria.

“Edison.  Mrs. George B. Edison.”

“There is no such name here.”

“There must be.”

“There isn’t.”

“Let me see,” said Maria.  She searched the names.  “Well, I don’t care,” said she.  “It was on the third floor, and I am going up and ask, anyway.”

“Now, Maria, do you think—­” began Wollaston.

But Maria began climbing the stairs.  There was no elevator.

“My!” said Gladys, but she followed Maria.

Wollaston pushed by them both.  “See here, you don’t know what you are getting into,” said he, sternly.  “You let me go first.”

When they reached the third floor, Maria pointed to a door.  “That is the door,” she whispered, breathlessly.

Wollaston knocked.  Immediately the door was flung open by a very pretty young woman in a rose-colored evening gown.  Her white shoulders gleamed through the transparent chiffon, and a comb set with rhinestones sparkled in the fluff of her blond hair.  When she saw the three she gave a shrill scream, and immediately a very small man, much smaller than she, but with a fierce cock of a black pointed beard, and a tremendous wiriness of gesture, appeared.

“Oh, Tom!” gasped the young woman.  “Oh!”

“What on earth is the matter, Stella?” asked the man.  Then he looked fiercely at the three.  “Who are these people?” he asked.

“I don’t know.  I opened the door.  I thought it was Adeline and Raymond, and then I saw these strange people.  I don’t know how they got in.”

“We came in the door,” said Gladys, with some asperity, “and we are lookin’ for M’ria’s little sister.  Be you her ma-in-law’s cousin?”

“I don’t know who these people are,” the young woman said, faintly, to the man.  “I think they must be burglars.”

“Burglars, nothin’!” said Gladys, who had suddenly assumed the leadership of the party.  Opposition and suspicion stimulated her.  She loved a fight.  “Be you her ma-in-law’s cousin, and have you got her little sister?”

Wollaston looked inquiringly at Maria, who was very pale.

“It isn’t Her cousin,” she gasped.  “I don’t know who she is.  I never saw her.”

Then Wollaston spoke, hat in hand, and speaking up like a man.  “Pardon us, sir,” he said, “we did not intend to intrude, but—­”

“Get out of this,” said the man, with a sudden dart towards the door.

His wife screamed again, and put her hand over a little diamond brooch at her throat.  “I just know they are sneak-thieves,” she gasped.  “Do send them away, Tom!”

Wollaston tried to speak again.  “We merely wished to ascertain,” said he, “if a lady by the name of Mrs. George A.—­”