“Thank you, sir. I have waited a long time for Laura, but she is mine at last. Won’t you stay and break a bottle of champagne?” “Thanks, but I must be off. I have another engagement I must fill.” “I can imagine where.” “Yes,” dryly, “and probably this will be as happy a night to another man as it is to you—he has found a wife as well as yourself.” “And the lady you refer to is the sweetest and best little woman in the world—save one”—hastily correcting himself—“the man must be a fool who could doubt her constancy.” “You don’t know all, Prescott. Her husband is the truest, noblest man I know. He rejected it all again and again, but he is human and he saw and heard things that would convince a skeptic.” “Probably he understands all by this time, and he will eat humble pie too.” “I hope so. Good night, Mr. Prescott. Bring the doughty colonel to his knees.” “I’ll wring his nose if he gives me any further trouble, the old nuisance.” “Success to you.” Eric Darrell left the vine-embowered cottage with feelings greatly differing from his entrance. He was light of heart. Not only was this on account of Joe and his wife, but his faith in womankind had been saved. Had Lillian been guilty Eric was determined never again to believe in a woman. This would have made him a cynic and a scoffer all of his days—now he could remember with a delicious thrill that Marian was at Joe’s house, and he would soon meet the original of the picture that had charmed him so. He did not remember of having felt so good for a long time back. That was the result of the reaction. As yet he could form no distinct idea of the true state of affairs—all was chaotic confusion, but above everything he saw the prime fact that Lillian was innocent. That covered all. How Joe must rejoice. It would be a new lease of life to him. So the detective walked out to the street, and found the hack waiting. The driver greeted him. “Glad to see you on deck—it was a mistake after all. Now drive me to the corner you brought me from and the fee is yours.” “Good.” Away they rattled. The detective felt inclined to smoke, and was soon puffing a cigar out of the window, as he did not want to saturate his clothes with the strong odor, fearing lest Marian might be one with her sister in objecting to tobacco. Then he wondered what time it was. They had started at ten minutes to ten and made wonderful time, so that it could not be very late, he thought. Taking out his watch as they crossed the bridge over the Harlem, he found that it was fifteen minutes after eleven. Would he be in time? He did not know how long these informal affairs were apt to last, but at a rough guess figured that they would still be on hand at midnight and he ought to be there before that. He urged the driver on. Finally the vehicle drew up. They had arrived. When Eric found that it lacked fifteen minutes of twelve, he was satisfied, handed the driver his fee, and hurried along the street.