Well, the dinner was a success, and we girls felt fully repaid for the little sacrifice we had made. Everyone responded to all the fun but Edyth’s little old man, who gave his name as “just plain Mr. Jones.” Everyone enjoyed himself, and the party didn’t break up until late in the afternoon. As we were expecting other company in the evening, we started to put on our jewelry, which we had taken off for the dinner, because we didn’t think it looked well to wear diamonds and other precious stones when our guests were so poorly clad. I had not thought of my locket until the first guest had arrived, so I had placed it in a vase on the dining room mantel. Now I slipped my hand into the vase, and horrors! It was gone! All was confusion as we rushed around looking everywhere, for we could not bear to think that anyone, who had sat at our table and enjoyed our hospitality, would play the part of a thief. As we were excitedly discussing the pros and cons in the case the bell rang, and Dorothy ushered in a stranger. He was a man of some thirty-five years, with a frank face and a firm jaw. He leaned against the wall and said: “I come to bring a message from an old man, whom you so kindly befriended this morning. He wishes you to know the truth about him, for with all his faults and sins, he finds that he still has a spark of manhood. He is the great robber, “Desperate Jim,” in his latest disguise. All the authorities are searching for him. He came to your home, and while he sat at your table so silently his mind was torn by conflicting emotions. At one moment he felt like standing up, taking off his disguise and confessing everything and see if there was yet a chance for him to be a man. He noticed that, in passing the mantel, one of the young ladies glanced in the vase, and he surmised that it must contain some valuables. He saw what it was, and took it.” From his inner pocket he drew out a parcel, saying, “Desperate Jim” told me to tell you that he regrets that he returned theft for hospitality and faith, and to express his gratitude that you have made him feel that he may yet make something of his life. Take this, and good night, young ladies, and God bless you.” As he turned to leave, his hat fell to the floor and when he reached for it I saw a dark scar on his wrist, a scar just such as I had noticed on the wrist of the old man who called himself “just plain Mr. Jones,” and I knew that the old man and this one were one and the same person.