Going in, some one spoke the name, and Barry had a stab of memory. Who had talked of narrow streets, across which people gossiped--and shook hands?--who had spoken of having tea in that little shop? He asked the question of his companions, "Who called this a story-book town?" They laughed at him. "You dreamed it." Steadily his mind began to work. He fumbled in his pocket, and found Leila's letter. Searching through it, he discovered the name of the little place. "I didn't dream it," he announced triumphantly; "my wife told me." "Wake up," Jerry said, "and thank the gods that you are single." But Barry stood swaying. "My little wife told me--_Leila_!" With a sudden cry, he lurched forward. His arm struck the arm of the driver beside him. The car gave a sudden turn. The streets were narrow--so narrow that one might almost shake hands across them! And there was a crash! Jerry was not hurt, nor the other adventurers. The chauffeur was stunned. But Barry was crumpled up against the stone steps of one of the funny little houses, and lay there with Leila's letter all red under him. It was Porter and Mary who told Leila. The General had begged them to do it. "I can't," he had said, pitifully. "I've faced guns, but I can't face the hurt in my darling's eyes." So Mary's arms were around her when she whispered to the child-wife that Barry was--dead. Porter had faltered first something about an accident--that the doctors were--afraid. Leila, shaking, had looked from one to the other. "I must go to him," she had cried. "You see, I am his wife. I have a right to go." "_His wife_?" Of all things they had not expected this. "Yes, we have been married a year--we ran away." "When, dear?" "Last March--to Rockville--and--and we were going to tell everybody the next day--and then Barry lost his place--and we couldn't." Oh, poor little widow, poor little child! Mary drew her close. "Leila, Leila," she whispered, "dear little sister, dear little girl, we must love and comfort each other." And then Leila knew. But they did not tell her how it had happened. The details of that last ride the woman who loved him need never know. Barry was to be her hero always. CHAPTER XXIV _In Which Roger Comes Once More to the Tower Rooms; and in Which a Duel is Fought in Modern Fashion._ It was Cousin Patty who had suggested sending for Roger. "He can look after me, Mary. If you won't let me go home, I don't want you to have the thought of me to burden you." "You couldn't be a burden. And I don't know what Aunt Isabelle and I should have done without you." She began to cry weakly, and Cousin Patty, comforting her, said in her heart, "There is no one but Roger who can say the right things to her."