Mr. Robert vows that he will never forgive me for the ten minutes' agony which I gratuitously added to his measure. It came about in this wise. I was on my way down Seventeenth Street that afternoon, and it was in front of a fashionable apartment house that I met him. He was seated on his box, the whip at the proper angle, and his eyes riveted on his pair's ears. It was the first time I had seen him since the day of the episode at the police-station. He was growing thin. He did not see me, and he did not even notice me till I stopped and the sound of my heels on the walk ceased. Arms akimbo, I surveyed him. "Well?" I began. I admit that the smile I offered him was a deal like that which a cat offers a cornered mouse. He turned his head. I shall not repeat the word he muttered. It was very improper, though they often refer to it in the Sabbath-schools, always in a hushed breath, however, as though to full-voice it would only fan the flames still higher. "What have you to say for yourself?" I went on. "Nothing for myself, but for you, move on and let me alone, or when I get the opportunity, Chuck, I'll punch your head, glasses or no glasses." "Brother-in-law or no brother-in-law." "Chuck, will you go on?"--hoarsely. "I mean it." I saw that he did. "You don't look very happy for a man who has cracked so tremendous a joke." "Will you go along?" "Not till I get good and ready, James. I've told too many lies on your account already not to make myself a present of this joyful reunion. Has Miss Annesley any idea of the imposture?" He did not answer. "How did you like waiting in Scott Circle the other night?" Still no answer. I have half an idea that he was making ready to leap from his box. He ran his fingers up and down the lines. I could see that he was mad through and through; but I enjoyed the scene nevertheless. He deserved a little roasting on the gridiron. "I am given to understand," I continued, "that you act as butler, besides, and pass the soup around the table." Silence. Then I heard a door close, and saw a look of despair grow on his face. I turned and saw Miss Annesley and Mrs. Chadwick coming down the steps. "Why, how do you do, Mr. Henderson? Mrs. Chadwick." "I have already had the pleasure of meeting this famous young orator," purred Mrs. Chadwick, giving me her hand. She was a fashionable, not to say brilliant, _intrigante_. I knew her to have been concerned indirectly with half a dozen big lobby schemes. She was rather wealthy. But she was seen everywhere, and everywhere was admired. She was as completely at home abroad as here in Washington. She was a widow, perhaps thirty-eight, handsome and fascinating, a delightful _raconteur_, and had the remarkable reputation of never indulging in scandal. She was the repository of more secrets than I should care to discover.