with a confession to make. There are many
things I----"

"I don't want a confession from you!" she broke in. "Whatever you did
was right. Even before you told me, I felt you knew about the pearls
being gone----"

"Though I knew, I ought to have trusted you. I ought to have trusted you
when I heard you telephone O'Reilly----"

"So you did hear! I was sure of it. I telephoned about Clo. He was
helping her, and so, indirectly, helping me, though I'd seen him only
when he brought her here that Sunday night, after she'd been to his
hotel. Oh, Roger, you don't know what that child has done for me! Not
only did she get back the envelope, and now the pearls--which Peterson
stole--but she has gone through an ordeal terrible enough to kill most
women, or drive them mad--that delicate girl! She may be in danger
still--for she dropped the pearls in a bag out of a window in a shabby
boarding-house where she has been watching a thief. Miss Blackburne has
just told me. My one comfort is that a man, answering Justin O'Reilly's
description, got out of a motor car in front of the house, as Miss
Blackburne came away. Clo tricked O'Reilly, and stole from him, and
yet--I think she bewitched him. I think he'd risk his life to keep her
from harm. I pray that he may bring her here, safe and sound."

"He's not likely to come to my house," Roger said. "I've just caused him
the greatest disappointment of his life. I wanted to hurt him--and I
found a way. By this time he must know what I've done. There's an old
mansion in Gramercy Square built by O'Reilly's great-great-grandfather.
Years ago there was a forced sale; and ever since Justin O'Reilly was a
boy he has wanted to buy the house back. I have bought it. But I wish to
heaven he would fall in love with this Clo of yours and marry her. I'd
give them the deed of sale as a wedding present!"

Roger had sprung up, released by Beverley, and almost shouted the words
of his inspiration. He had forgotten everything and everybody in the
world except his wife, the girl who had helped her, and his own late
enemy, whom he would now gladly welcome as his dearest friend. A knock
brought him back to realities with a start; yet he felt half dazed as he
opened the door, to face Leontine.

"The butler begged of me to come," said the Frenchwoman. "Is it the wish
of Monsieur and Madame that dinner be still longer delayed?"

Roger turned and looked at Beverley, his hand on the door. "What shall
we say?" h