ore.

Mr. Pilkington's fingers strayed agitatedly to his spectacles.

"I may have been a fool," he cried shrilly, "though I was perfectly
willing to risk the money had it been applied to the object for which
I gave it. But when it comes to giving ten thousand dollars just to
have it paid back to me in exchange for a very valuable piece of
theatrical property ... my own money ... handed back to me...!"

Words failed Mr. Pilkington.

"I've been deliberately swindled!" he added, after a moment, harking
back to the main motive.

Jill's heart was like lead. She could not doubt for an instant the
truth of what the victim had said. Woven into every inch of the
fabric, plainly hall-marked on its surface, she could perceive the
signature of Uncle Chris. If he had come and confessed to her himself,
she could not have been more certain that he had acted precisely as
Mr. Pilkington had charged. There was that same impishness, that same
bland unscrupulousness, that same pathetic desire to do her a good
turn however it might affect anybody else which, if she might compare
the two things, had caused him to pass her off on unfortunate Mr.
Mariner of Brookport as a girl of wealth with tastes in the direction
of real estate.

Wally was not so easily satisfied.

"You've no proof whatever...."

Jill shook her head.

"It's true, Wally. I know Uncle Chris. It must be true."

"But, Jill...!"

"It must be. How else could Uncle Chris have got the money?"

Mr. Pilkington, much encouraged by this ready acquiescence in his
theories, got under way once more.

"The man's a swindler! A swindler! He's robbed me! I have been robbed!
He never had any intention of starting a motion-picture company. He
planned it all out...!"

Jill cut into the babble of his denunciations. She was sick at heart,
and she spoke almost listlessly.

"Mr. Pilkington!" The victim stopped. "Mr. Pilkington, if what you say
is true, and I'm afraid there is no doubt that it is, the only thing I
can do is to give you back your property. So will you please try to
understand that everything is just as it was before you gave my uncle
the money. You've got back your ten thousand dollars and you've got
back your piece, so there's nothing more to talk about."

Mr. Pilkington, dimly realizing that the financial aspect of the
affair had been more or less satisfactorily adjusted, was nevertheless
conscious of a feeling that he was being thwarted. He had much more to
say