e! I wouldn't have believed it!"

"Why not?" said his son. "What's done is done."

His mother said: "Why have you got on an overcoat such a night as this?"

"Because I like it," said Theodore.

Garrison knew better. He wondered what the whole game signified.

The old man was glaring at him sharply.

"I should think for a man who has to leave at nine your time is getting
short," he said. "Perhaps your story was invented."

Garrison took out his watch. The fiction would have to be played to
the end. The hour lacked twenty minutes of nine. He must presently
depart, yet he felt that Dorothy might need protection. Having made up
his mind that a marriage had doubtless been planned between Dorothy and
Theodore--on the man's part for the purpose of acquiring valuable
property, probably veiled to Dorothy--he felt she might not be safe if
abandoned to their power.

He had found himself plunged into complications on which it had not
been possible to count, but notwithstanding which he meant to remain by
Dorothy with the utmost resolution. He had not acknowledged that the
charm she exercised upon him lay perilously close to the tenderest of
passions, but tried to convince himself his present desire was merely
to see this business to the end.

It certainly piqued him to find himself obliged to leave with so much
of the evening's proceedings veiled in mystery. He would have been
glad to know more of what it meant to have this cousin, Theodore,
masquerading as the devil in one house, and covering all the signs here
at home. He was absolutely helpless in the situation. He knew that
Dorothy wished him to depart. She could not, of course, do otherwise.

"Thank you," he said to the elder Robinson. "I must leave in fifteen
minutes."

Dorothy looked at him strangely. She could not permit him to stay, yet
she felt the need of every possible safeguard, now that her cousin had
appeared. The strange trust and confidence she felt in Garrison had
given her new hope and strength. To know he must go in the next few
minutes, leaving her there with the Robinsons, afflicted her abruptly
with a sense of desolation.

Yet there was nothing she could say or do to prevent his immediate
retreat.

Young Robinson, made aware that Garrison would soon be departing,
appeared to be slightly excited.

"I'll go down and 'phone for my suit-case," he said, and he left the
room at once.

Aunt Jill and old Robinson sat down. It was