“Briefly,” went on the commodore, as he steered them out of the woods, “our worst fears have been realized. Negotiations with Gee-gee are in progress. Divorce papers will probably follow.” Clarence on the other side of Dickie made a sound. “All this is your work.” The commodore seemed about to become savage, but he restrained himself. “No use speaking about that. Also, it is too late for us to call the wager off and pay up. Mischief’s done now.” “Why not make a clean breast of everything?” suggested Bob. “Say it was a wager, and—” “A truth-telling stunt? That _would_ help a lot.” Contemptuously. Dickie muttered: “Bonehead!” “I mean, you can say there wasn’t any harm,” said Bob desperately. “That it was all open and innocent!” “Much good my saying that would do!” snorted Dan. “You don’t know Mrs. Dan.” “Or Mrs. Clarence,” said Clarence weakly. Bob hung his head. “We’ve thought of one little expedient that may help,” observed Dan, still speaking with difficulty. “While such influences as we could summon are at work on the New York end, we’ve got to square matters here. We’ve got to account for your—your—” here the commodore nearly choked—“extraordinary revelations.” “But how,” said Bob patiently, “can you ‘account’ for them? I suppose you mean to make me out a liar?” “Exactly,” from the commodore coolly. “I don’t mind,” returned Bob wearily, “as long as it will help you out and I’m not one. Only _I_ can’t say those things aren’t true.” “You don’t have to,” said Dan succinctly. “There’s an easier way than that. No one would believe you, anyway, now.” “That’s true.” Gloomily. “All we need,” went on Dan, brightening a bit, “is your cooperation.” “What can I do?” “You don’t do anything. We do what is to be done. You just come along.” “We take you into custody,” interposed Clarence. “Lock you up!” exploded Dickie once more. “And a good job.” “Lock me up?” Bob gazed at them, bewildered. Had the temperamental little thing “peached,” after all? Impossible! And yet if she hadn’t, how could Dan and Dickie and Clarence know he was a burglar—or rather, that a combination of unlucky circumstances made him seem one? Perhaps that kiss was a signal for them to step forward and take him. History was full of such kisses. And yet he would have sworn she was not that kind. “You’re to come along without making a fuss,” said the commodore significantly. “But I don’t want to come along. This is going too far,” remonstrated Bob. “I’ve a decided objection to being locked up as a burglar.” “Burglar!” exclaimed Dan. “Don’t know how you found out! Appearances may be against me, but,” stopping in the road, “if you want me to go along, you’ve got to make me.” The trio looked at one another. “Maybe, he really is—” suggested Dickie, touching his forehead. “Too much truth!” said Clarence with a sneer. “Feel half that way, myself!”