“Can’t blame you much,” acknowledged the Justice, his sternness thawed by the other’s geniality. “Let’s see if I have change,” opening his cash box, and dumping its contents on the desk. The stranger picked up Janet’s bracelet as it rolled toward him, and glanced idly at it; then his attention was arrested by the unusual design, and he examined it minutely, even to the tiny initials and date engraved on the inside. “Here’s your change, sir,” added the Justice. “Thanks,” the stranger pocketed the money without counting it. “Pretty bracelet you have here,” handing it back to Lenox as he spoke. “Very unusual in appearance; would you mind telling me where you got it?” “No, why should I? A girl, riding with her beau, left it here in lieu of a fine for speeding. She, or rather her escort, Captain Nichols, will redeem it tomorrow.” “I see,” the stranger stared in deep astonishment at the Justice. “If it isn’t breaking a confidence, can you give me the young woman’s name?” “Sure,” the Justice rapidly ran his finger down the open ledger. “Miss Marjorie Langdon, 910 Thirteenth Street, Washington.” “Miss Marjorie Langdon,” repeated the stranger; then roused himself. “Much obliged, sir, good evening.” And he hastily left the room and entered his limousine. “Home, François,” he directed; then as the lights of Hyattsville disappeared in the distance, he confided his reflections to the flower-filled glass vase. “What in the devil’s name was Miss Marjorie Langdon doing with my daughter’s bracelet in her possession?” CHAPTER XIII DUNCAN’S DILEMMA PAULINE CALHOUN-COOPER laid down her embroidery with a resigned sigh as her brother, after striding moodily up and down the drawing-room, made a sudden dash for the door. “Where are you going, Joe?” she called. “Out----” and the front door banged shut behind him. Pauline’s lips curved in an irritating smile. “Your ‘poy Joe’ gets more impossible every day, mother. I think father had better be told----” “No you don’t, young lady,” Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper spoke with unwonted authority. “I won’t permit any further interference.” “Oh, well, take the consequences then,” replied her daughter, undutifully. “Chichester Barnard warned me Joe spends most of his time with that trained nurse, Kathryn Allen; he said he couldn’t tell _me_ what kind of a character she is”--Pauline raised her eyebrows suggestively. Her mother reddened angrily. “I’ll thank Mr. Barnard to mind his own business,” she snapped. “Joe is too much of a gentleman to drop Miss Allen’s acquaintance after her kindness to him. He tells me their friendship is entirely platonic.” “Is that all?” Pauline’s sarcastic drawl was enough to exasperate a far better tempered woman than Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper. “Don’t blame me, mother dear, if you get an undesirable daughter-in-law.” Her mother’s retort was checked by the entrance of Janet and Marjorie, and she rose somewhat flurriedly to greet them.