"Pardon me," whispered Mr. Pyecroft, gently stepping forward among them. Then he raised his voice: "Wait just one minute, gentlemen! You shall know everything!"
"Oh, Mr. Pyecroft, don't, don't!" moaned Mrs. De Peyster. "Judge Harvey—Jack—don't let him! Send them away! Put it off! I can't stand it!"
But Mr. Pyecroft, without heeding her protest, and unhampered by the others, stepped to Olivetta's side.
"Miss Harmon," he whispered rapidly, "did you obey Mrs. De Peyster's instructions on your voyage home? About keeping to your stateroom—about keeping yourself veiled, and all the rest?"
"Yes," said Olivetta.
"And Mrs. De Peyster's trunks, where are they?"
"At the Cunard pier,"
"What name did you sail under?"
"Miss Harriman."
In the same instant Mr. Pyecroft had lifted Olivetta to her feet, had drawn from her boneless figure the long traveling-coat of pongee silk, and had drawn the pins from her traveling-hat. Released from his support, Olivetta re-collapsed. In the next instant Mr. Pyecroft had Mrs. De Peyster upon her feet, with firm, deft, resistless hands had slipped the long coat upon her, had put the hat upon her head and pushed in the pins, had drawn the thick veil down over her face—and had thrust her again down into her chair.