But she made no such demur when a little while later Mr. Gryce was announced. The fatherly old gentleman had evidently been in that house before, and Mrs. Richmond was not the woman to withstand a man like him. He came immediately into the room where Imogene was sitting. Evidently he thought as Helen did, that good news never hurts. "Well!" he cried, taking her trembling hand in his, with his most expressive smile. "What did I tell you? Didn't I say that if you would only trust me all would come right? And it has, don't you see? Right as a trivet." "Yes," she returned; "and I never can find words with which to express my gratitude. You have saved two lives, Mr. Gryce: his--and mine." "Pooh! pooh!" cried the detective, good-humoredly. "You mustn't think too much of any thing I have done. It was the falling limb that did the business. If Mr. Orcutt's conscience had not been awakened by the stroke of death, I don't know where we should have been to-day. Affairs were beginning to look pretty dark for Mansell." Imogene shuddered. "But I haven't come here to call up unpleasant memories," he continued. "I have come to wish you joy and a happy convalescence." And leaning toward her, he said, with a complete change of voice: "You know, I suppose, why Mr. Mansell presumed to think _you_ guilty of this crime?" "No," she murmured, wearily; "unless it was because the ring he believed me to have retained was found on the scene of murder." "Bah!" cried Mr. Gryce, "he had a much better reason than that." And with the air of one who wishes to clear up all misunderstandings, he told her the words which her lover had overheard Mrs. Clemmens say when he came up to her dining-room door. The effect on Imogene was very great. Hoping to hide it, she turned away her face, showing in this struggle with herself something of the strength of her old days. Mr. Gryce watched her with interest. "It is very strange," was her first remark. "I had such reasons for thinking him guilty; he such good cause for thinking me so. What wonder we doubted each other. And yet I can never forgive myself for doubting him; I can sooner forgive him for doubting me. If you see him----" "If _I_ see him?" interrupted the detective, with a smile. "Yes," said she. "If you see him tell him that Imogene Dare thanks him for his noble conduct toward one he believed to be stained by so despicable a crime, and assure him that I think he was much more justified in his suspicions than I was in mine, for there were weaknesses in my character which he had ample opportunities for observing, while all that I knew of him was to his credit." "Miss Dare," suggested the detective, "couldn't you tell him this much better yourself?" "I shall not have the opportunity," she said. "And why?" he inquired.