"Mrs. De Peyster!" cried the staggered crowd. "Mrs. De Peyster herself!"
"Mrs. De Peyster herself," repeated Mr. Pyecroft in his grave voice. "You are surprised, but not more so than the rest of us."
"But that other Mrs. De Peyster—the one the funeral is for?" asked Mr. Mayfair. "Who is she?"
"That, gentlemen, is as great a mystery to us as to any of you," said Mr. Pyecroft.
"But how the—but how did it all happen?" ejaculated Mr. Mayfair.
"That is what I am going to tell you," Mr. Pyecroft answered.
Mrs. De Peyster struggled up.
"Don't—don't!" she besought him wildly.
Mr. Pyecroft pressed her back into her chair, and held her there with an arm that was like a brace of steel.
"You see, gentlemen," he remarked sympathetically, "how this business has upset her."