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 perished. By some kind of miracle, however, Zimbule was saved. What happened to her subsequently is as yet a mystery. My parents only heard of her again when she became a moving-picture star. Doubtless, on the occasion of her reunion with her lost ones, which will occur in a few years, she will be able to relate the incidents of the unaccounted-for period in her career.

But the name! Campaspe cried. How has she been able to retain the name?

Easily, Gunnar explained. Each of us, at the time of our adoption and christening, was presented with a gold key on which the name was engraved. This key was attached to a gold chain linked around the throat and could only be removed by breaking the chain. The key opens a box kept by our guardians in a safe-deposit vault, waiting our coming of age. Zimbule's box was secured by my parents after her foster-family had perished at sea. She doubtless retains the key.

I saw no key! Campaspe ejaculated.

Do you then know her? Gunnar regarded her with astonishment.

I knew her two years ago.

Even if she does not wear it round her throat, she must have retained the key, Gunnar argued.

It is a most amazing story, Campaspe commented, as she lighted a new cigarette.

There is much more, and the interesting part of