"No," almost gasped the lady; "tell me—his name."
"I did not intend to speak his name," Claire said, slowly. "It is Edward Percy."
Mrs. Ralston was on her feet in an instant, her face flushing with excitement. "Come with me!" she almost shrieked. "Quick! to my room."
Wondering vaguely, Claire followed.
Mrs. Ralston almost flew to her apartment. She flung open the door, and in an instant was on her knees beside a trunk, opening trays and searching for something eagerly.
"Look!" she cried, suddenly thrusting out something toward Claire; something from which she averted her own face. "Look, did you ever see that face?"
The girl gave one glance and uttered a sharp cry. It was a miniature painted on ivory; painted years ago, but she knew it only too well.
Mrs. Ralston regained her feet, trembling so that she could scarcely stand.
"Where did you get it?" cried Claire. "It is he; Edward Percy!"
Mrs. Ralston started forward and took the picture from her hand. "It is my husband!" she whispered.