on
of stealing the diamonds (if they could only be found) did not trouble
either of them. It was a settled question, by tacit consent on both
sides. But the value in money of the precious stones suggested a doubt
that still weighed on his mind.

"How do you know they're worth five thousand pounds?" he inquired.

"You dear old stupid! Doesn't Westerfield himself say so in his letter?"

"Read that bit again."

She read it again: "After the two calamities of the loss of the ship,
and the disappearance of the diamonds--these last being valued at five
thousand pounds--I returned to England."

Satisfied so far, he wanted to look at the cipher next. She handed it to
him with a stipulation: "Yours, Jemmy, on the day when you marry me."

He put the slip of paper into his pocket. "Now I've got it," he said,
"suppose I keep it?"

A woman who has been barmaid at a public-house is a woman not easily
found at the end of her resources.

"In that case," she curtly remarked, "I should first call in the police,
and then telegraph to my husband's employers in Liverpool."

He handed the cipher back. "I was joking," he said.

"So was I," she answered.

They looked at each other. They were made for each other--and they both
felt it. At the same time, James kept his own interests steadily in
view. He stated the obvious objection to the cipher. Experts had already
tried to interpret the signs, and had failed.

"Quite true," she added, "but other people may succeed."

"How are you to find them?"

"Leave me to try. Will you give me a fortnight from to-day?"

"All right. Anything else?"

"One thing more. Get the marriage license at once."

"Why?"

"To show that you are in earnest."

He burst out laughing. "It mightn't be much amiss," he said, "if I took
you back with me to America; you're the sort of woman we want in our new
saloon. I'll get the license. Good-night."

As he rose to go, there was a soft knock at the door. A little girl, in
a shabby frock, ventured to show herself in the room.

"What do you want here?" her mother asked sharply.

Syd held out a small thin hand, with a letter in it, which represented
her only excuse. Mrs. Westerfield read the letter, and crumpled it up
in her pocket. "One of your secrets?" James asked. "Anything about the
diamonds, for instance?"

"Wait till you are my husband," she said, "and then you may be as
inquisitive as you please." Her amiable sweetheart's guess had actually
hit