"Yes, I have something to say. I have n't any right to, but I 'm going to, just the same. Anne Wellington, I love you! I honor you! Since that night at the Grand Central Station--hang it, Anne, I can't make a speech, much as I should like to. I love you, that's all, and--and--and--" He stopped short. She laughed that quick, fluttering laugh of happiness, much more eloquent than words. "Jack," she said, "that night I stood with you on the bridge of the _D'Estang_--then I knew I loved you." The next instant she was crushed in his arms. "Oh--Jack!" There were no more words. But why words? As the tide ebbed and murmured and the birds sang in the trees above, they stood silent, immured from all the world, these two, but neither doubting nor fearing. CHAPTER XXVI CONCLUSION In the library of The Crags, the light of dawn stole in through the windows and turned the brilliant light of the lamps into a pale glow. The odor of stale flowers was all about. Mrs. Wellington, with a headache, stood in the doorway. Her husband sat in an armchair with legs outstretched, smoking about his fortieth cigar. Sara Van Valkenberg stood in the middle of the floor. She had been speaking at great length and with many gestures and not once had she been interrupted. When at last she concluded, there was a long silence. "Well, Belle?" said Ronald Wellington at last, turning his head toward his wife. "Oh, I am not surprised," said Mrs. Wellington grimly. "I always suspected Koltsoff of some deviltry. I hoped only that it would remain beneath the surface until after the ball. It did. I have not the slightest complaint." "So; he used this house as a rendezvous for spies!" Mr. Wellington bit at his cigar savagely. "Where is he now?" "He motored to town an hour or two ago," replied Sara. "His secretary told Miss Hatch that they had booked for the _Metric_ to-morrow." Mr. Wellington could not repress a smile. "Well," he said, "and where is this Armitage fellow now? Where is Anne?" Sara laughed. "When I last saw her she was searching for Lieutenant Armitage." "H'mm." Mr. Wellington looked at his wife gravely. "What is it now, Belle? Have they eloped, or what?" "I am sure I haven't the slightest idea," replied that lady yawning. "Not interested, eh?" There was sort of a chirrup in the man's voice. "Not the slightest," was the reply with rising emphasis. "Anne might as well marry--or elope with--Lieutenant Armitage as some one equally or more objectionable to me." "Oh, Mrs. Wellington!" cried Sara. "Jack Armitage is eminently eligible, really. As I told you, I know all about him." As Mrs. Wellington smiled her wintry smile and was about to reply, there was a flash of white in the doorway. An instant later Anne had darted into the room and launched herself into her father's lap. "Father!"