How happy were the faces of all who passed him, as though there were no such things in the world as sorrow, desolation, and heartaches. He smiled a bitter smile, telling himself that he had little enough to give thanks for, in the way of happiness. He hesitated a moment on the corner of Broadway, wondering if it were best to go to a hotel, or to the room of his old friends, Jerry Gaines and Ballou. “I do not feel equal to seeing and talking with even the Trinity to-night,” he muttered. “They would want an account of all that transpired since I saw them last, and I am not equal to it just yet. How surprised they will be, and pleased to know that I escaped the wreck under which the papers had me buried, and still more pleased to learn that I married the girl that Uncle Dinsmore selected for me; but they will do their best to argue me out of my firm resolve to divorce the girl. But nothing that they can say or do will shake me in my purpose. I will set the girl free in the shortest possible time, that she may wed the man to whom she was engaged when I came upon the scene and married her, never dreaming she was in love with another, and that the reports of my wealth had tempted her to prove false to him. I know but too well what the poor fellow must have suffered.” Finding himself in the vicinity of the home of the Trevalyns, that is, the address Queenie had given him when they were at Newport, he concluded that there was no time like the present to discharge the unpleasant task. He therefore turned his steps in that direction at once. A brisk walk of scarcely three minutes brought him to the number he was in search of, No. -- Fifth Avenue. The obsequious servant who answered the summons at the door bowed low to the tall, distinguished-looking gentleman whom he found there. It was then that John Dinsmore made the fatal mistake of his life. He called for Miss Trevalyn, instead of Mrs. Trevalyn. “Evidently the gentleman doesn’t know that our young lady is married,” thought the servant, and he answered with a smile: “The lady has changed her address, sir. You will find her at No. -- Fifty-second Street.” The man would have given him additional information in the next breath, but at that instant John Dinsmore turned swiftly, and with a courteous bow descended the steps. “Probably an old beau of our young lady’s,” thought the servant, gazing thoughtfully after the tall, commanding form. “I should say also that he is not a New Yorker, or he would have known all about Miss Queenie’s marriage to the old millionaire, who turned out on his death to be almost a pauper. That ought to be a warning to all young girls who would marry old men for their supposed wealth.” Meanwhile John Dinsmore was making his way with long, swinging strides to the address given, which he knew could be scarcely more than a couple of blocks or so away. He could not see much of the exterior of the house, for, although scarcely five in the afternoon, it was already dark.