“Carrying a baby about with a loaded pistol in his hand?” came back in stern retort.

She had no answer for this.  She admitted when informed that the bullet extracted from her husband’s body had been found to correspond exactly with those remaining in the five chambers of the pistol taken from his hand, that he was not only the owner of this pistol but was in the habit of sleeping with it under his pillow; but, beyond that, nothing; and this reticence, as well as her manner which was cold and repellent, told against her.

A verdict of suicide was rendered by the coroner’s jury, and the life-insurance company, in which Mr. Hammond had but lately insured himself for a large sum, taking advantage of the suicide clause embodied in the policy, announced its determination of not paying the same.

Such was the situation, as known to Violet Strange and the general public, on the day she was asked to see Mrs. Hammond and learn what might alter her opinion as to the justice of this verdict and the stand taken by the Shuler Life Insurance Company.

The clock on the mantel in Miss Strange’s rose-coloured boudoir had struck three, and Violet was gazing in some impatience at the door, when there came a gentle knock upon it, and the maid (one of the elderly, not youthful, kind) ushered in her expected visitor.

“You are Mrs. Hammond?” she asked, in natural awe of the too black figure outlined so sharply against the deep pink of the sea-shell room.

The answer was a slow lifting of the veil which shadowed the features she knew only from the cuts she had seen in newspapers.

“You are—­Miss Strange?” stammered her visitor; “the young lady who—­”

“I am,” chimed in a voice as ringing as it was sweet.  “I am the person you have come here to see.  And this is my home.  But that does not make me less interested in the unhappy, or less desirous of serving them.  Certainly you have met with the two greatest losses which can come to a woman—­I know your story well enough to say that—­; but what have you to tell me in proof that you should not lose your anticipated income as well?  Something vital, I hope, else I cannot help you; something which you should have told the coroner’s jury—­and did not.”

The flush which was the sole answer these words called forth did not take from the refinement of the young widow’s expression, but rather added to it; Violet watched it in its ebb and flow and, seriously affected by it (why, she did not know, for Mrs. Hammond had made no other appeal either by look or gesture), pushed forward a chair and begged her visitor to be seated.

“We can converse in perfect safety here,” she said.  “When you feel quite equal to it, let me hear what you have to communicate.  It will never go any further.  I could not do the work I do if I felt it necessary to have a confidant.”

“But you are so young and so—­so—­”

“So inexperienced you would say and so evidently a member of what New Yorkers call ‘society.’  Do not let that trouble you.  My inexperience is not likely to last long and my social pleasures are more apt to add to my efficiency than to detract from it.”