"You know who she is then?"
"Most assuredly I do."
"Mr. Herrick's terrible shadow?"
"Oh, she needn't bring her shadow, need she?" Christina said.
Ten Euyck, who was just leaving the building, turned and looked at her; there was always a covert, sullen admiration in his glances at her. "I'm glad to see your spirits are improving. It's now you who are singing!"
"'Auld acquaintance'—a sad enough song! But my Nancy's favorite! Don't begrudge it me, Inspector Ten Euyck; it reminds all who love her of kind hours. 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind?' Good-by, Mr. Ten Euyck." The outside door closed after him, and she said to the Inspector, "There is something you wish me to identify?"
"Here we are!" said the Inspector. "The experts say she wrote it!"
Christina looked at the four words a long time. The tears rose in her eyes again. "Yes. She did." She turned to Herrick. "This was what I came to tell Will last night. My mother had just told me. But now that he's helpless, he mustn't know!"
"Well?" said the Inspector, and he handed Christina the red lock of curly hair.
She took it a little gingerly; studying it, as it lay in the palm of her hand. "Of course, one could be deceived," she said, slowly. "But it's either her hair or it's exactly like it." She lifted the curl and held it to the light. She untied the string which bound it, and thinning it out in her fingers spread it to a soft flame of color. "Oh, surely, it's her hair—oh, poor little girl!" she cried, and crossed by a sudden shiver, she let the hair fall from her hand. Swifter than the men about her she gathered it up again, and again stood studying the tumbled and scattered little mass. And then Herrick saw a terrible change come over her face—an immense amazement, mingled almost at once with passionate incredulity; slowly, the incredulity gave way to conviction and to fear; and then there swept upon Christina's face a blaze of such anger as Herrick had never seen in a woman's eyes.