disinclination to reveal himself to the court, to
his enjoyment of a practical joke, not realizing
that the resultant excitement of the scene would
react on his weak heart.

"Mr. Turnbull is survived by a great aunt; he had
no nearer relatives living. It is a singular
coincidence that the lawyer appointed by the
court to defend Turnbull was his intimate friend,
Philip Rochester, who made his home with the
deceased."

Kent read the column over and over, then, letting the paper slip to
the floor, sat back in his chair, too dumb-founded for words. Jimmie
Turnbull arrested as a burglar in the home of the girl he loved on
charges preferred by her, and defended in court by his intimate friend,
both of whom were unaware of his identity! Kent rumpled his fair
hair until it stood upright. And Jimmie's death had followed almost
immediately as the result of over-excitement!

Kent's eyes grew moist; he had been very fond of the eccentric, lovable
bank cashier, whose knack of performing many a kindly act, unsolicited,
had endeared him to friends and acquaintances alike. Kent had seen much
of him after his return from France, for Jimmie's attention to Helen
McIntyre had been only second to Kent's devotion to the latter's sister,
Barbara. The two men had one bond in common. Colonel McIntyre disliked
them and discouraged their calling, to the secret fury of both, but love
had found a way--Kent's eyes kindled at the recollection of Barbara's
half-shy, wholly tender reception of his ardent pleading.

Turnbull's courtship had met with a set-back where he had least
expected it--Philip Rochester had fallen deeply in love with Helen and,
encouraged by her father, had pressed his suit with ardor. Frequent
quarrels between the two close friends had been the outcome, and Jimmie
had confided to Kent, before the latter left on the business trip to
Chicago from which he had returned that morning, that the situation had
become intolerable and he had notified Rochester that he would no longer
share his apartment with him, and to look for other quarters as quickly
as possible.

So buried was Kent in his thoughts that he never heard Sylvester's
knock, and it was not until the clerk stood at his elbow that he awoke
from his absorption.

"A lady to see you, Mr. Kent," he announced. "Shall I show her in?"

"Certainly--her name?"

"She gave none." Sylvester paused on his way back to the door. "It is
one of the Mis