and and pressed it understandingly. "So he insisted
that I should treat him like an ordinary burglar--we had both forgotten
Barbara's silly wager in our horror about father. Jimmie didn't dare
take the securities and father's confession with him for fear he'd be
searched at the police station, and the scandal would have come out
then."

"True," agreed McIntyre. "Go on, Helen."

"So Jimmie thrust the securities and father's confession into an
envelope and sealed it with red wax, using Barbara's seal," explained
Helen. "He hadn't time to write an address or message on it, but he told
me to return the envelope to him later in the day or give it to Philip
Rochester and ask his aid. I brought it here on Wednesday morning and
with Harry's permission put the envelope in the safe."

"I tried to get it from there," volunteered Sylvester, "for I overheard
Turnbull's plan, before I left by the reception room window."

"So it was you and not Mr. Rochester whom I saw steal out of the
window," exclaimed Mrs. Brewster.

"It's not the first time I've been mistaken for him," exclaimed
Sylvester calmly.

Kent started and, gazing at Rochester and the clerk, saw there was a
general resemblance in coloring and physique.

"Did you present the checks to McDonald at the Metropolis Trust Company
bearing Rochester's and my forged signatures?" he asked.

"I did," acknowledged Sylvester. "Mr. Rochester's wardrobe came in very
handy for deceiving the casual glance. You know, 'clothes make the man,
and want of it the fellow.'"

Kent looked up quickly, struck by an idea.

"Sylvester, did you steal the envelope containing the securities from me
at the Club de Vingt?" he asked.

Sylvester shook his head. "No, but she did," pointing to Mrs. Brewster.
"It's no lie," as McIntyre uttered an indignant denial. "When Ferguson
left here carrying off the securities from under my nose almost--I had
spent the whole day trying to learn the safe's combination; I trailed
him to the Club de Vingt, and heard the head waiter tell him you, Mr.
Kent, were sitting in the small smoking porch, so I climbed up the
trumpet vine; oh, it was strong and no climb for one who has done the
feats I have in the circus. I reached the porch just in time to see Mrs.
Brewster drop her fan, and when the men bent to pick it up she 'lifted'
the envelope and concealed it under her scarf."

"Don't," Mrs. Brewster laid a detaining hand on McIntyre as he stepped
forward. "The man