"Don't know how I can, Mr. Ryder. When Colonel Brack gets set on something he's hard to change. And then there's Pop Cudger--he's in this, too, and he never stops to hear what any other fellow has to say once he begins on a thing." Ryder groaned dismally. "Mr. Giddings has arrived and is anxious to see you," went on the clerk. "Say! I'm going to be manager here in place of Bangs. And if I make good I'll owe it all to you," declared the grateful young man. "And say, your wife will be tickled to see you----" "What!" Ryder for a moment lost control of himself, but George was too full of news to notice his emotion. "Naturally she'd be lonely. She's been sticking as close to Mrs. Brack as though the old lady was her mother. And the colonel is evidently dead stuck on Mrs. Ryder. I think he'll even forgive you, sir," and George chuckled. Ryder swallowed hard, and finally was able to speak without a noticeable tremor in his voice: "Guess it is too early to go upstairs. Nobody will be up yet." "No. Mrs. Ryder has not telephoned down for her breakfast. And I believe Mrs. Brack is with her, anyway." "Tell 'em I'm here if they 'phone down," said Ryder, and went into the breakfast room. Before he completed his leisurely meal Mrs. Judson swept into the room in a wonderful morning gown. She caught sight of Ryder, looked her astonishment for an instant, and then advanced down the room with the evident intention of speaking to him. It was rude, but Ryder would have knocked her down had she been a man. As he could not do this, he deliberately turned his eyes away and ignored her. The cut direct could not be mistaken, and several noticed the widow's discomfiture. A moment later one of the bellboys brought Ryder a note. He tried to seem undisturbed as he opened and read it: "DEAR SIR:-- "Come to me in the parlor before seeing your wife. She does not know yet that you have returned. "Sincerely, "ALICE J. BRACK." He arose finally and made his way to the parlor, with an apparent ease of manner he did not at all feel. It was the same room that had been the scene of so many events on that night when Pop Cudger and his colored retainer had guarded Van Scamp's famous painting of "The Cheesemonger." The tranquil countenance of the colonel's lady seemed to John Ryder one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. Her smile encouraged him. Her first words filled him with delight: "Yes; she is well." He could have hugged her! But Mrs. Brack added gravely: "Before I let you go up to the poor child, you must tell me your side of the story. All of it. She has trusted everything to me. I understand her mistakes and her misery fully. And I tell you now that no shadow of wrong rests upon her conduct. Can you say as much, Mr. Ryder?