"Such a scene as I had with Kiametia," groaned Mrs. Whitney sighing
dismally at the recollection. "Finally, I convinced her that I knew
nothing of Mr. Spencer's presence, and she consented to sleep in the
hall bedroom."

"I'm glad Kiametia discovered Spencer in time." His chuckle developing
into a laugh, Whitney rose and walked to the door. "It's no crying
matter, my dear. Kiametia will be the first to enjoy the joke."

"If it had been anyone but Sinclair Spencer!" Mrs. Whitney shook her head
forlornly. "She has developed an intense dislike for him."

"And Kiametia is usually a woman of discernment." His sarcasm passed
unheeded, and he opened the hall door. "Hurry and dress, Minna, I'll wait
for you in the dining-room. Heavens! What's that?"

A muffled cry, long drawn out, agonizing, vibrated through the stillness.

Spellbound, husband and wife eyed each other, then Whitney stepped into
the hall just as Miss Kiametia tore out of her bedroom.

"What is it?" she demanded. "Oh, stop it, stop it!" clapping her hands
over her ears as the cry rose again.

"It comes from the elevator shaft, sir," panted Vincent, appearing up the
stairs, Henry, the chauffeur, close at his heels. Without moving, Whitney
stared stupidly at the two servants, and it was Henry who laid a
trembling finger on the elevator button. As they heard the automatic car
come to a standstill on the other side of the closed mahogany door there
was a second's pause; then Miss Kiametia, summoning all her fortitude,