"You mustn't do that," urged Magee. They came back into the firelight. "Miss Thornhill has just informed me that she knows who has the package!" "Indeed," said the girl calmly, but her face had flushed. "I didn't let her tell me, of course." "Why not?" Oh, how maddening women could be! "Why not?" Magee's tone was hurt. "Because I couldn't use her information in getting the money for you." "You are still 'going to' get the money for me?" Maddening certainly, as a rough-edged collar. "Of--" Magee began, but caught himself. No, he would prate no more of 'going to'. "I'll not ask you to believe it," he said, "until I bring it to you and place it in your hand." She turned her face slowly to his and lifted her blue eyes. "I wonder," she said. "I wonder." The firelight fell on her lips, her hair, her eyes, and Mr. Magee knew that his selfish bachelorhood was at an end. Hitherto, marriage had been to him the picture drawn by the pathetic exiled master. "There are no more pleasant by-paths down which you may wander, but the road lies long and straight and dusty to the grave." What if it were so? With the hand of a girl like this in his, what if the pleasant by-paths of his solitude did bear hereafter the "No Thoroughfare" sign? Long the road might be, and he would rejoice in its length; dusty perhaps, but her smile through the dust would make it all worth while. He stooped to her. "Give me, please," he said, "the benefit of the doubt." It was a poor speech compared to what was in his heart, but Billy Magee was rapidly learning that most of the pretty speeches went with puppets who could not feel. Bland and Max came in from a brisk walk on the veranda. The mayor of Reuton, who had been dozing near the desk, stirred. "Great air up here," remarked Mr. Max, rubbing his hands before the fire. "Ought to be pumped down into the region of the white lights. It sure would stir things up." "It would put out the lights at ten p.m.," answered Mr. Magee, "and inculcate other wholesome habits of living disastrous to the restaurant impresarios." Miss Norton rose and ascended the stairs. Still the protesting Magee was at her heels. At the head of the stair she turned. "You shall have your final chance," she said. "The mayor, Max and Bland are alone in the office. I don't approve of eavesdropping at Baldpate in the summer--it has spoiled a lot of perfectly adorable engagements. But in winter it's different. Whether you really want to help me or not I'm sure I don't know, but if you do, the conversation below now might prove of interest." "I'm sure it would," Magee replied.