“Darrell, you ought to know me better than that. I am not that kind of a man. My whole life is wrapped up in my wife, and if I should lose her, either by death or any other means, it would kill me outright.” “I believe it, Joe, I do indeed.” Then he finished his story. Joe was greatly wrought up. “I shall go to Lillian at once—she shall hear the truth from my lips first, not yours. Perhaps she will forgive me. If she says the word I will break my pipe”—with a sort of sob—“and quit the whole infernal business if it kills me.” “I can arrange it so that she will beg you to smoke, Joe. Depend upon it, Lillian has learned that there are evils a thousand times worse than the one habit to which you are addicted.” “See here, Eric, you don’t believe this thing of my being at the _bal masque_?” “I do not, and yet just see how circumstantial evidence will hang a man. The chain of evidence was complete. You went out on an apparent quixotic errand; I saw a man with your figure escort a lady into that place; his name, singularly enough was Joe, and I heard some one say she was a Mrs. Lester or something of that kind, while I heard her tell the driver Twenty-seventh Street.” “Good heavens!” muttered poor Joe, appalled. “Worse still, your wife showed me a picture of her sister, at my request. I pretended to be interested and spoke of your joking me, and my promise to call when that sister came from California. “To my horror I heard that man whom I supposed to be you, call that dark-haired lady at the masquerade by that name.” “Marian?” “Yes. You can imagine the awful feelings it aroused within me; the whole thing seemed so plain that I was appalled. Joe Leslie dropped from the high place he held in my esteem and at that time I almost hated you.” “I don’t wonder at it, old fellow, and think all the more of you for it.” “Later on I became vacillating—several things occurred that broke me up completely, among others the statement made by your driver.” “How was that?” “He declared you were down town all the evening and to prove it stated that he had talked with an officer I know just at midnight.” “Yes, I remember.” “I proved this true, and that aroused my suspicions for the first time. If you were down town you could not be at the _bal masque_ at the same minute—for it was a few minutes before midnight that the melee occurred and the man I thought to be you floored his assailants.” “I see. I must hunt up this Joe Lester and discover who and what he is. Perhaps we have been playing the two Dromios again.” Joe had knocked the ashes from his pipe and locked the treasure up in a closet in the larger front room, where his clothes were hanging. The artful villain was wont to change his garments when he entered here, in order that he might not go home saturated with tobacco smoke. Eric saw the whole thing plainly. He felt in exuberant spirits. So far as Joe was concerned, the whole business had turned out delightfully.