the racing-car leaped into the night, its ruby rear lamp winking
in farewell, its tiny siren answering the great siren of the prison in
jeering notes of joy and victory.

Fred had supposed that at the last moment the younger convict proposed
to leap to the running-board, but instead the stranger remained
motionless.

Fred shouted impotently after the flying car. In dismay he seized the
stranger by the arm.

"But you?" he demanded. "How are you going to get away?"

The stranger turned appealingly to where upon the upper step stood
Winnie Keep.

"I don't want to get away," he said. "I was hoping, maybe, you'd let me
stay to dinner."

A terrible and icy chill crept down the spine of Fred Keep. He moved so
that the light from the hall fell full upon the face of the stranger.

"Will you kindly tell me," Fred demanded, "who the devil you are?"

The stranger exclaimed peevishly. "I've BEEN telling you all evening,"
he protested. "I'm Harry Van Warden!"

Gridley, the ancient butler, appeared in the open door.

"Dinner is served, madam," he said.

The stranger gave an exclamation of pleasure. "Hello, Gridley!" he
cried. "Will you please tell Mr. Keep who I am? Tell him, if he'll ask
me to dinner, I won't steal the spoons."

Upon the face of Gridley appeared a smile it never had been the
privilege of Fred Keep to behold. The butler beamed upon the stranger
fondly, proudly, by the right of long acquaintanceship, with the
affection of an old friend. Still beaming, he bowed to Keep.

"If Mr. Harry--Mr. Van Warden," he said, "is to stay to dinner, might I
suggest, sir, he is very partial to the Paul Vibert, '84."

Fred Keep gazed stupidly from his butler to the stranger and then at his
wife. She was again radiantly beautiful and smilingly happy.

Gridley coughed tentatively. "Shall I open a bottle, sir?" he asked.

Hopelessly Fred tossed his arms heavenward.

"Open a case!" he roared.

At ten o'clock, when they were still at table and reaching a state of
such mutual appreciation that soon they would be calling each other by
their first names, Gridley brought in a written message he had taken
from the telephone. It was a long-distance call from Yonkers, sent by
James, the faithful chauffeur.

Fred read it aloud.

"I got that party the articles he needed," it read, "and saw him safe on
a train to Boston. On the way back I got arrested for speeding the car
on the way down. Please send money. I am in a cell in Y