"I feel as if I had seen one. Why did you do it? What have I done to——"
"Tryphena Wardlow, what are you talking about?" asked Trif, approaching the girl. "Do say something intelligible, if you can, and stop acting."
For answer, Fenie took her sister's hand and led the way to the mirror, between the glass and frame of which was a photograph of Harry Trewman.
"In the name of all that's mysterious," exclaimed Trif, "where did it come from?"
"Where, indeed! Didn't you place it there, to—to——"
"I give you my word that I never saw it, or knew of its existence, until this instant."
"Oh, this is dreadful," exclaimed Fenie, sinking into a chair. "There's some mystery about it. Who can be here who knows anything about—about what had happened? Who has been able to get into our room without our knowledge? I shan't dare to fall asleep. I shan't——"
"Do stop being dramatic, Fee, and try to be sensible. The picture didn't sneak in through the keyhole, nor did invisible hands bring it, although I confess that for the moment I'm mystified. Oh, I have it! Mark my words, Trixy knows something about that picture."
In an instant Fenie was in the adjoining room and shaking Trixy. The child was sleeping as soundly as ocean air and the lullaby of gentle surf can make children sleep, but Fenie persevered.