"Madame Ritti says that she hardly knows you. That with the exception of a few days last year, when you were staying with her, you have never been to the house," said the patient magistrate. "She made you leave her, because she found you were an undesirable." "Your worship, there is a gentleman here who wishes to give evidence," said the usher. Ronald Morelle stepped to the stand, smiled faintly at the open-mouthed surprise of Jerry Talbot, at the shocked amazement of Madame Ritti, and bowed to the magistrate. He gave his name, place of living, and occupation. "Now, Mr. Morelle, what can you tell us?" demanded the magistrate benevolently. "I know this girl," he indicated the interested prisoner, "her name is Lola Pranceaux, or rather, that is the name by which she is known. She is an inmate of a house," he did not say "house," and Madame Ritti almost jumped from her seat at his description, "maintained by Madame Ritti. I can also assure your worship that she is very well known to the prosecutor, Mr. Talbot, and to me. I have taken her away to the country on more than one occasion. To my knowledge she was invited last night to Mr. Talbot's house. There is no reason why she should steal a trumpery brooch. She has jewels of her own. I myself gave her the solitaire ring she is now wearing." The magistrate glared at Jerry Talbot. "Are you pressing this charge?" "No--no, your honor--worship," stammered Jerry. The man of law wrote furiously upon a paper. "You may go away, Pranceaux, you are discharged. I have heard a considerable amount of perjury in this case and I have heard the truth--not very pleasant truth, I admit. Mr. Morelle has testified for the accused with great frankness which I can admire. His habits and behavior are less admirable. Next case!" Ronnie was the last of the party to leave the court. Lola came hurriedly across the waiting room to clasp his hand. "Oh, Ronnie, you--pal! How lovely of you! I never thought you were such a brick! Madame looked like hell--she's pinched all my jewelry and now she'll have to give it up. Ronnie, how can I thank you?" "Lola--come to my flat, I want to talk to you." François who opened the door to them was not surprised. After all, one could not expect Ronald Morelle to improve in every respect. It was a pleasure to work for him, he was so considerate. Lola settled herself in the most comfortable corner of the settee and waited for François to go. "You will have some tea?" Ronnie gave the order to a servant who was no less surprised than Lola. "What have you done with that picture that was over the mantelpiece?" asked the girl, seeing a blankness of wall. "I've burned it," said Ronnie. "But it was worth thousands, Ronnie! You told me so."