The child stepped closer. "I'm Renée!" she answered gently.
"You that little Renée? Come here!" Mrs. Forrester commanded stretching out a thin hand.
Renée stepped close to the head of the bed and leaned over. Mrs. Forrester touched her cheek and her hair.
"So it is! So it is!" and her voice softened. Then a gleam of sunlight from the unshaded window struck across the curious old locket. Suddenly the sick woman sat bolt upright in bed and clutched with both hands at the red band.
"That--that----" she screamed. "Where did you get it?" She tore at the velvet band until it hurt Renée cruelly. Her voice rose to a shriek. "It is hers! My baby!"
As her fingers fumbled over the face of the locket a part of it suddenly opened and from a hiding place within dropped a tiny gold key! The old lady cried loudly and held it up.
"I knew it! I knew it!" Then she sank back among the pillows, turned slowly to Renée and whispered hoarsely:
"But who are you?"
CHAPTER XXI
RENÉE'S BOX