“Well, you certainly hoodwinked the rest of us,” observed the hammer-thrower slowly. He stood with his head down as if thinking deeply. When he looked up, he gazed straight into the monocle-man’s eyes. They were twinkling and good-humored. An arrest in high society was rather a ceremonious affair. You didn’t take a man by the scruff of the neck and yank him to the patrol wagon. There were polite formalities to be observed. The end had to be accomplished without shocking or disturbing the other guests. The truly artistic method would, in fact, be the attainment of the result while the guests remained in absolute ignorance, for the time being, of what had been done. “I’m afraid I’ve got to do my duty,” observed the monocle-man to Bob. “You look like a man who would play the game. A game loser, I mean?” Suggestively. “Oh, I’m a loser all right,” said Bob, looking at the hammer-man. For a moment he wondered if he should speak further. He could imagine how his words would be received. He didn’t forget that he hadn’t a shadow of proof against the hammer-man. Miss Gerald would think he was accusing an innocent person and she would despise him (Bob) only the more—if that were possible. To speak would be but to court the contempt of the others, the laughter of the hammer-man. Bob’s thoughts were terribly confused but he realized he might as well remain silent; indeed, perhaps it would be better for the present. “Anyhow, what I told you wasn’t so,” said jolly little pal to the monocle-man. “And I repeat I will never testify to it.” She was awfully dejected. “Yes, you will,” said Bob monotonously. “As I told you, I won’t let you get into trouble.” “Besides there’s all that other evidence,” suggested the monocle-man. “I can explain that away,” returned Bob. Then he thought: Could he? Would Dan and Clarence stand by him now and acknowledge it was they he had let out of the house at that unseemly hour? He doubted it. Dickie, too, wouldn’t be very friendly. Their last conversation over the telephone was far from reassuring. “No; I am not sure that I can,” Bob added. He still had to remember he was the impersonation of Truth. “You refer to Miss Gerald’s having seen you wandering about the house after the others had retired, I presume?” suggested the monocle-man, who was enjoying the conversation immensely. It was the kind of a situation he liked. He wouldn’t have curtailed it for the world. When the hammer-man heard the question, his brows lifted slightly. Surely a momentary glint of gladness or satisfaction shone from his gaze. But it receded at once. He listened attentively. “Yes, I was referring to that,” answered Bob, gazing at Gwendoline. She, condemn him to a prison cell! She, swear away his liberty! He gazed wistfully, almost sadly at the sweet inexorable lips which might ruin his life. He didn’t feel resentful; he only determined to put up the best fight he could when the time came.