“He certainly was. There was a great deal of good in Jimmy. You remember there was a time when I thought he had entirely reformed. Then he made that disappearing act of his from the steamship, and bobbed up, long afterward, on that island. It would be strange if he should appear again, after four years, wouldn’t it?” “It certainly would; but stranger things than that have happened in our experiences, Nick.” “Yes. But, somehow, I can’t believe that Jimmy Duryea is alive, now; although Nan is positive about it.” “Tell me what she said. Tell me about your talk with her. I always liked Nan; and it is a cinch that she _could_ sing. You gave her the right name when you called her Nightingale.” “Yes. Even Pettis said that.” “Why did she give up the stage?” “She didn’t tell me that. I was coming out of the church when some one touched me on the arm, and turning about I saw that it was Nan. Of course I was glad to see her, and I said so.” “Naturally. She is a sort of protégée of yours, you know. It was through you, Nick, that she quit being a crook and became an honest woman.” “Softly, Chick. Nan was never really a crook, you know. When she was Jimmy Duryea’s wife he did force her into assisting him in some of his crooked work; but she never had any heart in it. She hasn’t left the stage permanently—only temporarily. She said she desired a rest for a season, and that she had saved up enough money to take it. I guess that is her only reason for not being on the boards at present.” “But what about Jimmy?” “It is rather an odd sort of story, but I will tell it to you just as she told it to me and see what you think about it, Chick.” “All right.” “During her career on the stage these last four years, Nan has made some splendid acquaintances. I am not referring to people in the ‘profession’ so much as to society people. Nan has become a welcome guest at many an exclusive house, and among the members of the most conservative set.” “I’m not surprised at that. She is a beautiful woman—there is not another one on the stage who can hold a candle to her, if it comes down to that.” “You’re right. She is a lady, through and through—to the manner born, so to speak.” “Sure. And by the way, isn’t that what Jimmy used to say to himself—that he was ‘born, bred, and raised a gentleman’?” “Yes. And it was true, too.” “Go ahead about Nan, Nick.” “Well, it was at the solicitation of some of her society friends that she decided to take a rest for one season. She has saved up a lot of money, as nearly as I can make out, and was invited on a yachting cruise with some of her friends. After that she became the guest of Mrs. Theodore Remsen—and that is where she is staying now.” “She did get into the ‘upper ten,’ didn’t she?” “Sure. There isn’t a more exclusive house in the city, or at Newport or Lenox, than the Theodore Remsen’s.” “I know. Well?”