he matter for another moment if you feel that either of us
cannot trust the other. In a way, I am placing my honor in your
keeping far more than you are placing yourself in charge of mine."

Garrison looked at her steadily, and something akin to
sympathy--something that burned like wine of romance in his blood--with
zest of adventure and a surge of generosity toward this unknown
girl--tingled in all his being. Something in her helplessness appealed
to his innate chivalry.

Calmly, however, he took a new estimate of her character,
notwithstanding the fact that his first, most reliable impression had
been entirely in her favor.

"Well," he said, after a moment, "it's a blind game for me, but I think
I'll accept your offer. When do you wish me to begin my services?"

"I should like to notify my lawyer as soon as possible," answered Mrs.
Fairfax, frankly relieved by his decision. "He may regard the fact
that he was not sooner notified as a little peculiar."

"Practically you wish me to assume my role at once," commented
Garrison. "What is your lawyer's name?"

"Mr. Stephen Trowbridge."

Garrison took up that much-addressed letter, returned by the post, and
passed it across the table. The one fairly legible line on its surface
read:

STEPHEN TROWBRIDGE, ESQ.

"I think that must be the same individual," he said. "I sent out
announcements of my business and presence here to nearly every lawyer
in the State. This envelope has been readdressed, as you observe, but
it has never reached its destination. Is that your man?"

Mrs. Fairfax examined the missive.

"Yes," she said, "I think so. Do you wish his present address?"

"If you please," answered Garrison. "I shall take the liberty of
steaming this open and removing its contents, after which I will place
an antedated letter or notification of the--our marriage--written by
yourself--in the envelope, redirect it, and send it along. It will
finally land in the hands of your lawyer with its tardiness very
naturally explained."

"You mean the notification will appear as if misdirected originally,"
said Dorothy. "An excellent idea."

"Perhaps you will compose the note at once," said Garrison, pushing
paper, pen, and ink across the desk. "You may leave the rest, with the
address, to me."

His visitor hesitated for a moment, as if her decision wavered in this
vital moment of plunging into unknown fates, but she took up the pen
and wrote the note an