Then in a voice of dryest sarcasm: "Would you consider it impudent on my part--I wouldn't be impudent for the world, you know--to inquire what might be your real name? I have heard you variously called Mr. Simpson, Mr. Preston, Mr. Pyecroft. Perhaps you have a few other _aliases_." "I have had--yes. My real name is Eliot Endicott Bradford. That name has the advantage of never having appeared in any complaint or police report. For that matter, I may add that under none of my names have I ever been arrested. Eliot Bradford is a man against whom no legal fault can be found." "A testimonial from you," exclaimed the Judge--"what could possibly be better!" "But the hour?" gently insisted the other. Judge Harvey stared; his eyes narrowed. Then, suddenly-- "Nine-thirty," said he. "Thank you, sir," said Mr. Bradford; and slipped a hand through Miss Gardner's arm. But before he could turn to go, Mrs. De Peyster, from over the shoulder against which she leaned--Mrs. De Peyster, she couldn't help it ... smiled at him. And, suddenly, Judge Harvey--he couldn't help it, either ... was smiling, too.