"I hardly think you will, Mr. Goddard," was the quiet response. "I imagine that you would hesitate to bring such a charge against me, since such a course would necessitate explanations that might be to you somewhat distasteful, if not mortifying. You would hardly like to reveal the character of the document, which, however, you have made a mistake in asserting that I stole—"
"But you have admitted the charge," he excitedly interposed.
"I beg your pardon, I have not acknowledged the crime of theft—I simply stated that I was fortunate enough to find the document in question."
"It seems to me that that is a distinction without a difference," he sneered.
"One can hardly be accused of stealing what rightly belongs to one's self," Mrs. Weld composedly said.
"What—what on earth can you mean? Explain yourself."
"Certainly; that is exactly what I came here to do," she answered, as, with a dexterous movement, she tore the glasses from her eyes, and swept the moles from her face, after which she snatched the cap and wig from her head, and stood before her companion revealed as Isabel Stewart herself.
"Good Heaven!" he gasped, then sank back upon his chair, staring in blank amazement at her.
Mrs. Stewart seized this opportunity to again slip from the room, and when she returned, a few minutes later, her superabundance of cellular tissue (?) had disappeared and she was her own peerless self once more.
She quietly resumed her seat, gravely remarking, as she did so: