ar as the corner of Madison Street. The scramble to get
out of the way of the engines had here resulted in a traffic-jam. Two
policemen were moving about, shouting orders for the disentanglement of
the street-cars and vehicles which seemed to be inextricably wedged
together.

A burly Irish teamster was bellowing at his horse. The hind wheel of a
smart barouche was caught in the fore wheel of a delivery wagon, and the
driver of the delivery wagon was expressing his opinion of the situation
in terms which seemed to embarrass the elderly gentleman who sat in the
barouche. Orme's eye traveled through the outer edge of the disturbance,
and sought its center.

There in the midst of the tangle was a big black touring-car. Its one
occupant was a girl--and such a girl! Her fawn-colored cloak was thrown
open; her face was unveiled. Orme was thrilled when he caught the glory
of her face--the clear skin, browned by outdoor living; the demure but
regular features; the eyes that seemed to transmute and reflect softly
all impressions from without. Orme had never seen anyone like her--so
nobly unconscious of self, so appealing and yet so calm.

She was waiting patiently, interested in the clamor about her, but
seemingly undisturbed by her own part in it. Orme's eyes did not leave
her face. He was merely one of a crowd at the curb, unnoted by her, but
when after a time, he became aware that he was staring, he felt the blood
rush to his cheeks, and he muttered: "What a boor I am!" And then, "But
who can she be? who can she be?"

A policeman made his way to the black car. Orme saw him speak to the
girl; saw her brows knit; and he quickly threaded his way into the
street. His action was barely conscious, but nothing could have stopped
him at that moment.

"You'll have to come to the station, miss," the policeman was saying.

"But what have I done?" Her voice was broken music.

"You've violated the traffic regulations, and made all this trouble,
that's what you've done."

"I'm on a very important errand," she began, "and----"

"I can't help that, miss, you ought to have had someone with you that
knew the rules."

Her eyes were perplexed, and she looked about her as if for help. For a
moment her gaze fell on Orme, who was close to the policeman's elbow.

Now, Orme had a winning and disarming smile. Without hesitation, he
touched the policeman on the shoulder, beamed pleasantly, and said:
"Pardon me, officer, but this car was for