But when she had played as much as she could remember of the music, she rose and closed the piano, and pushed back the folding doors between the room she was in and the “back library,” a small room where Mrs. Cressler kept her books of poetry.

As Laura entered the room she was surprised to see Mr. Cressler there, seated in his armchair, his back turned toward her.

“Why, I didn’t know you were here, Mr. Cressler,” she said, as she came up to him.

She laid her hand upon his arm. But Cressler was dead; and as Laura touched him the head dropped upon the shoulder and showed the bullet hole in the temple, just in front of the ear.