But this soon passed. With the setting of her foot to ground, conditions changed and her emotions took on a more normal character. The figure of a man now stood in the place held by the vanished woman; and it was not only that of one she knew but that of one whom she trusted--a friend whose very presence gave her courage. With this recognition came a better understanding of the situation, and it was with a beaming eye and unclouded features that she tripped up the walk to meet the expectant figure and outstretched hand of Roger Upjohn. “You here!” she exclaimed, amid smiles and blushes, as he drew her into the hall. He at once launched forth into explanations mingled with apologies for the presumption he had shown in putting her to this inconvenience. There was trouble in the house--great trouble. Something had occurred for which an explanation must be found before morning, or the happiness and honour of more than one person now under this unhappy roof would be wrecked. He knew it was late--that she had been obliged to take a long and dreary ride alone, but her success with the problem which had once come near wrecking his own life had emboldened him to telephone to the office and--“But you are in ball-dress,” he cried in amazement. “Did you think--” “I came from a ball. Word reached me between the dances. I did not go home. I had been bidden to hurry.” He looked his appreciation, but when he spoke it was to say: “This is the situation. Miss Digby--” “The lady who is to be married tomorrow?” “Who hopes to be married tomorrow.” “How, hopes?” “Who will be married tomorrow, if a certain article lost in this house tonight can be found before any of the persons who have been dining here leave for their homes.” Violet uttered an exclamation. “Then, Mr. Cornell,” she began-- “Mr. Cornell has our utmost confidence,” Roger hastened to interpose. “But the article missing is one which he might reasonably desire to possess and which he alone of all present had the opportunity of securing. You can therefore see why he, with his pride--the pride off a man not rich, engaged to marry a woman who is--should declare that unless his innocence is established before daybreak, the doors of St. Bartholomew will remain shut to-morrow.” “But the article lost--what is it?” “Miss Digby will give you the particulars. She is waiting to receive you,” he added with a gesture towards a half-open door at their right. Violet glanced that way, then cast her looks up and down the hall in which they stood. “Do you know that you have not told me in whose house I am? Not hers, I know. She lives in the city.” “And you are twelve miles from Harlem. Miss Strange, you are in the Van Broecklyn mansion, famous enough you will acknowledge. Have you never been here before?” “I have been by here, but I recognized nothing in the dark. What an exciting place for an investigation!” “And Mr. Van Broecklyn? Have you never met him?”