ake you into my confidence, to some extent, and I must
begin with the adventure of the bag--Miss Jenrys' bag, you know.'

Now I was approaching a delicate topic, and I knew it very well. I had
not, in so many words, asked permission of Miss Jenrys to use her name
in relating my story, but I had said to her during one of the several
calls I had made in Washington Avenue, during the week that had just
passed:

'When our friend is able to listen, Miss Jenrys, I must tell him, I
think, how he came to be assaulted upon the bridge, as I understand
it, if only to prepare and warn him against future attacks; and, to
make my story clear to him or even reasonable, I shall need to enter
somewhat, in fact considerably, into detail. I can hardly make him
realize that he has a dangerous enemy else.'

I saw by the flush upon her face and a sudden nervous movement, that
she understood fully what this would involve, and for a moment I
feared that she was about to forbid me. But the start and blush were
quickly controlled, and she pressed her lips together and drew herself
erect, and there was only the slightest tremor in her voice when she
said, slowly:

'You are right; he ought to know,' and turned at once to another
subject.

Something in the look the young fellow turned upon me when I spoke of
the episode of the bag reminded me of her face as she gave that tacit
consent; there was the same mingling of pride and eagerness, reticence
and suspense, and I plunged at once into my story, recalling briefly
the encounter between Miss Jenrys and the Turks, the finding of the
bag, my meeting with him, and the appearance of the little brunette,
and here I put a question.

'I want to ask you,' I said, 'and I have a good reason for asking, as
you will see later, why, when that tricky brunette turned her back
upon you so pertly after making her demand for the bag--why you at
once left us both and without another word? Wait,' as he seemed making
an effort to reply. 'Let me put the question direct. Did you not leave
us because you thought that person was really a friend of Miss Jenrys,
and had, perhaps, been warned not to speak too freely in your
hearing?'

The blood flew to his pale cheeks, and there was a momentary flash of
haughtiness in his fine eyes, but as they met my own, this look faded
from them and he murmured 'Yes.'

'Thank you,' I said. 'And now, before going further, let me tell you
that I am violating no confidence; it is no