“Not at all. Have I not known you since you were a child? Can he say as much? Did I not work with you on Bob Wood's case? The help you were to me in trying to solve the mystery of the return of my father's bill of exchange I will never forget,” and for a long time Quincy and Mary talked over the miraculous return of his father. Finally Quincy said, “I interrupted you. You said that Mr. Isburn considered he had good reasons for complimenting you. Will you tell me what they were?” “It is a long story.” “I'm all attention.” “Then I'll begin at once. If you need a stimulant at any stage of the narrative, just signify your want and I'll ring for it.” “Is there a bar?” “No, but there's a cellar.” “I may need some Apollinaris,” said Quincy, as he settled himself more comfortably in the easy chair; “as my flesh is again strong, I always take my spirit very weak.” Mary had that sweetest of woman's charm--a low-pitched voice, and as she told the story of the loss of the great Isburn ruby and its recovery Quincy's thoughts were less on the words that he heard than the woman who uttered them. In his mind he was building a castle in which he was the Lord and the story-teller was the Lady. He was awakened from his dream by Mary's query: “Didn't I fool him nicely?” “You certainly did. And so he's going to give you a half-interest in the business. If he keeps his word”-- “Which I very much doubt,” interrupted Mary. “I'll buy the other half and we'll be partners.” He came near adding “for life,” but decided that such a declaration would be inopportune. “Why should you engage in business, Quincy? You are not obliged to work.” “That's the unfortunate part of it. I wish I were. I have so much money that I don't know what to do with it, except let it grow. But, speaking seriously, I've no intention of remaining a do-nothing. I'm treasurer of my father's grocery company but I have no liking for mercantile business. I can give away, but can neither buy nor sell--to advantage. I heard a story not long ago that set me thinking.” “I told you my story, Quincy, why not tell me yours?” “I will. It's a mystery--unsolved, and, I think, unsolvable. But I feel that my vocation will be the solving of mysteries. My mother wrote detective stories and I must have inherited a mania for mysteries and criminal problems. But I'll tell you what set me thinking.” Then he related the story that had been told him by Jack and Ned. As he concluded, he asked: “Do you think it was signed?” “Of course it was, but not by the dead man.” “By whom, then?” “By Mrs. Bliss. She materialized the form by her mediumistic prowess, but she signed the will.” “But Jack and Ned saw the form, as they called it, take the pen and write his name.” “They thought they did. She hypnotized them so they saw whatever she impressed upon their minds.” “Can sensible, highly educated people be so influenced?”