seudo-husband--for what? Here
was a party next door to the house--a party on which he had stumbled
accidentally--where a richly dressed young woman chanced to greet him,
with her jewels on her neck. Here was, apparently, a family
disturbance, engendered by his marriage with old Robinson's niece. And
now--here were the necklaces, worth, at the least estimation, the sum
of thirty thousand dollars--delivered to himself!

He could not escape the thought of a "fence," in which he himself had
possibly been impressed as a tool, by the cleverest intrigue. The
entire attitude of the Robinsons might, he realized, have been but a
part of the game. He had witnessed Dorothy's acting. It gave him a
vivid sense of her powers, some others of which might well lie
concealed behind her appearance of innocence.

And yet, when he thought of the beautiful girl who had begged him not
to desert her, he could not think her guilty of the things which this
singular outcome might suggest. He was sure she could clear up the
mystery, and set herself straight in his eyes.

Not a little disturbed as to what he should do with these precious
baubles, sparkling and glinting in his hand, he knitted his brow in
perplexity. He was due to leave New York at once, on orders from
Wicks. No safe deposit vault was available at such an hour. He dared
not leave the things behind in this room. There was no alternative, he
must carry them along in his pocket.

Inasmuch as the problem could not possibly be solved at once, and in
view of the fact that his mind, or his heart, refused to credit Dorothy
with guilt, there was nothing to do but dismiss the subject, as far as
possible, and make ready to depart.

He opened a drawer to procure the few things requisite for his trip.
On top of a number of linen garments lay a photograph--the picture of a
sweetly pretty young woman. He took it up, gazed at it calmly, and
presently shook his head.

He turned it over.

On the back was written: "With the love of my heart--Ailsa."

He had kissed this picture a thousand times, in rapture. It had once
represented his total of earthly happiness, and then--when the notice
of her marriage had come so baldly, through the mail--it had symbolized
his depths of despair. Through all his hurt he had clung, not only to
the picture, but also to some fond belief that Ailsa loved him still;
that the words she had spoken and the things she had done, in the days
of their court