e a second advantage of me.
You know my name"--I paused suggestively and she took the cue.

"I am Mrs. Conway," she said, and flicked a crumb off the table with an
over-manicured finger.

The name was scarcely a surprise. I had already surmised that this might
be the woman whom rumor credited as being Bronson's common-law wife.
Rumor, I remembered, had said other things even less pleasant, things
which had been brought out at Bronson's arrest for forgery.

"We met last under less fortunate circumstances," she was saying. "I
have been fit for nothing since that terrible day. And you--you had a
broken arm, I think."

"I still have it," I said, with a lame attempt at jocularity; "but to
have escaped at all was a miracle. We have much, indeed, to be thankful
for."

"I suppose we have," she said carelessly, "although sometimes I doubt
it." She was looking somberly toward the door through which her late
companion had made his exit.

"You sent for me--" I said.

"Yes, I sent for you." She roused herself and sat erect. "Now, Mr.
Blakeley, have you found those papers?"

"The papers? What papers?" I parried. I needed time to think.

"Mr. Blakeley," she said quietly, "I think we can lay aside all
subterfuge. In the first place let me refresh your mind about a few
things. The Pittsburg police are looking for the survivors of the car
Ontario; there are three that I know of--yourself, the young woman with
whom you left the scene of the wreck, and myself. The wreck, you will
admit, was a fortunate one for you."

I nodded without speaking.

"At the time of the collision you were in rather a hole," she went
on, looking at me with a disagreeable smile. "You were, if I remember,
accused of a rather atrocious crime. There was a lot of corroborative
evidence, was there not? I seem to remember a dirk and the murdered
man's pocket-book in your possession, and a few other things that
were--well, rather unpleasant."

I was thrown a bit off my guard.

"You remember also," I said quickly, "that a man disappeared from the
car, taking my clothes, papers and everything."

"I remember that you said so." Her tone was quietly insulting, and I bit
my lip at having been caught. It was no time to make a defense.

"You have missed one calculation," I said coldly, "and that is, the
discovery of the man who left the train."

"You have found him?" She bent forward, and again I regretted my hasty
speech. "I knew it; I said so."

"We are