"Gerald, why do you not answer me?" his companion impatiently demanded. "Can you think of any one who would be likely to rob us in this way?"
"Have you no suspicion, Anna?" the man asked, and looking gravely into her eyes. "Was there no one among your guests to-night, who—"
"Who—what—!" she cried, as he faltered and stopped.
"Was there no one present who made you think of—of some one whom you—have known in the—the past?"
"Ha! do you refer to Mrs. Stewart?" said madam. "Did you also notice the—resemblance?"
"Could any one help it?—could any one ever mistake those eyes? Anna—she was Isabel herself!"
"No—no!" she panted wildly, "she may be some relative. Are you losing your mind? Isabel is—dead."
"She lives!"
"I tell you no! I—saw her dead."
"You? How could that be possible?" exclaimed Mr. Goddard, in astonishment. "We were both in Florence at the time of that tragedy."