the first man who thought he understood women, and
you are not the last victim of that deplorable delusion. But let's have
no more foolishness."

"I haven't a thing to say for myself!" blurted Archie, who was at the
point of tears. "I was weak, miserably weak. I had no idea that any one
could lie as that girl did. And it's not fair for me to stay on with
you. I can't ask you to trust me again. We'd better part company right
here!"

"How completely you misjudge me, Archie! There's a charm in you begotten
of your very innocence and helplessness, and I should be very unhappy if
we parted now. We've shared some danger together and in spite of your
weaknesses I'm fond of you. And if I left you to your own devices
something quite disastrous might happen to you."

Discomfited and humiliated as he was the very thought of going out into
the world alone filled Archie with horror. Under Sally's hypnotic
influence he had concluded that the Governor was a negligible factor in
his life; but away from the girl and rankling under her deceit he
grasped at the Governor's friendship with the frantic clutch of a
drowning man. The Governor drew out his bill fold and extracted from it
a newspaper cutting.

"Note this, Archie, from a Boston paper of today. Our old friend Congdon
has stirred up the Boston police about the disappearance of his son. I
don't ask you to make any comment on that item; I merely call your
attention to the fact that Putney Congdon is on the missing list and
like ourselves Putney Congdon was at Bailey Harbor. Nothing particularly
startling in all this, as the police records show something like an
average of one thousand four hundred and thirteen missing or unaccounted
for persons in the United States every year. This paper says that
Congdon was seen by one person and one only at Bailey Harbor. That was a
garage man who sold him some gas--it was a stormy night--and
incidentally that night poor Hoky set sail for the happy isles. And the
date is further memorable from the fact that it was the occasion of our
first meeting. And the blood stains on the board walk of one of the
streets at Bailey--"

"Stop, for God's sake!" cried Archie. "I'll tell you everything; I'll--"

"You'll tell me nothing, because I refuse to listen! Confessing is a
habit. If I encourage you to confess to me you'll be pouring your tale
into the ear of the first policeman you meet. As things stand you are
not suspected, and if we follow my progr