“She has inherited her good looks from mother. What do you think of Miss Langdon? She was with me when I met you last night,” he added, to complete the identification. “A beautiful girl; I’m not surprised you walked over the rest of us mortals when dancing with her.” Duncan fidgeted in his chair. “I’m hard hit in that quarter,” he admitted slowly. “She’s lucky,” commented Potter tersely. “Are congratulations in order?” He regretted the question as he saw Duncan wince. “Unfortunately for me, no.” Duncan had turned a shade paler under the strain of the emotion he was striving to suppress. “I would never have mentioned this topic had it not been for extraordinary circumstances”--he stopped and looked carefully about the room. Seeing the hall door was closed, and there was apparently no danger of being overheard, he continued, “Will you please treat what I am about to say as confidential?” “Of course, my dear fellow,” deeply interested, Potter laid down his cigar and moved his chair nearer. “Miss Langdon has been with Janet as, you might say, resident chaperon....” “Isn’t she very young for such a responsible position?” “Mother did not think so. Miss Langdon is really more of a companion for Janet; knows the right people to introduce to her----” “I see, a ‘guide, philosopher, and friend,’ idea....” “Yes,” slowly. “Miss Langdon has been with Janet since the first week in November. During that time she has conducted herself as a woman of refinement and good breeding would; she has done everything possible to see that Janet has a good time. Mother swears by her--says she cannot get on without her,” he paused, considering his words with care. “My intercourse with Miss Langdon has been of the most conventional character; in her eyes I am simply Janet’s elder brother....” “Well, where is the fly in the ointment?” inquired Potter. “Other suitors?” “As many as she wants,” quietly. “It is not they who are troubling me.” “No?” in a tone of some unbelief. “Well, what then?” Duncan spoke with an apparent effort. “Some extraordinary robberies have taken place recently....” A low whistle escaped Potter. “In your house and since Miss Langdon’s arrival?” he asked. “Yes; and--and--in another house before she came to us....” “I see--the trail of the serpent....” “Don’t make comments until I have finished,” retorted Duncan, ruffled by Potter’s manner. “I beg your pardon,” good-naturedly. “Go ahead.” But it was some moments before Duncan complied with the request. “I have come to you with my problem,” he began finally, “because I have an idea it may be in your province.” “Ah. Under what heading?” “Kleptomania.” Potter elevated his eyebrows. “It is a recognized mental derangement,” he conceded. “Curable?” “Doubtful.” Potter forebore to look at Duncan; instinctively he knew the hope his friend was pinning on him and his advice. “Has Miss Langdon ever had scarlet fever?” “I don’t know. Why?”