“Ad-Visor, eh?” repeated the other. “Well, there’s going to be an advertisement in the _Evening Truth_ to-day, by me. Here’s a proof of it.” Average Jones took the slip and read it. LOST—Necklace of curious blue stones from Hotel Denton, night of August 6. Reward greater than value of stones for return to hotel. No questions asked. “Reward greater than value of stones,” commented Average Jones. “There’s a sentimental interest, then?” “Will you take the case?” returned Kirby abruptly. “At least I’ll look into it,” replied Average Jones. “Come to the hotel, then, and lunch with me, and I’ll open up the whole thing.” Across a luncheon-table, at the quiet, old-fashioned Hotel Denton, Kirby unburdened himself. “You know all that’s necessary about me. The—the other party in the matter is Mrs. Hale. She’s a young widow. We’ve been engaged for six months; were to be married in a fortnight. Now she insists on a postponement. That’s where I want your help.” Average Jones moved uneasily in his chair. “Really, Mr. Kirby, lovers’ quarrels aren’t in my line.” “There’s been no quarrel. We’re as much engaged now as ever, in spite of the return of the ring. It’s only her infern—her deep-rooted superstition that’s caused this trouble. One can’t blame her; her father and mother were both killed in an accident after some sort of ‘ghostly warning.’ The first thing I gave her, after our engagement, was a necklace of these stones”—he tapped his scarf pin—“that I’d selected, one by one, myself. They’re beautiful, as you see, but they’re not particularly valuable; only semiprecious. The devil of it is that they’re the subject of an Indian legend. The Indians and Mexicans call them “blue fires,” and say they have the power to bind and loose in love. Edna has been out in that country; she’s naturally high strung and responsive to that sort of thing, as I told you, and she fairly soaked in all that nonsense. To make it worse, when I sent them to her I wrote that—that—” a dull red surged up under the tan skin—“that as long as the fire in the stones burned blue for her my heart would be all hers. Now the necklace is gone. You can imagine the effect on a woman of that temperament. And you can see the result.” He pointed with a face of misery to the solitaire on his watch-chain. “She insisted on giving this back. Says that a woman as careless as she proved herself can’t be trusted with jewelry. And she’s hysterically sure that misfortune will follow us for ever if we’re married without recovering the fool necklace. So she’s begged a postponement.” “Details,” said Average Jones crisply.