“Don’t run away, Admiral,” protested Tom, “it’s I who must be leaving. Hope you’ll forgive me, Fordyce, but they’ve telephoned me to return to Myer at once. Please tell Miss Janet I’ll be in tomorrow.” He hesitated; should he give the bracelet to Duncan? No. Janet had particularly charged him not to let any inkling of her motor ride reach her brother’s ears, and Duncan would naturally ask him how he came to have his sister’s bracelet in his possession. “Ask her if she will telephone me what hour will be most convenient for her to see me,” he added hurriedly. “I will,” promised Duncan, turning back to say good-bye to Admiral Lawrence. “Can you spare me a few minutes now, Duncan?” the latter asked anxiously. “Certainly, sir; my time is at your disposal.” Admiral Lawrence surveyed the room in silence; then led the way to the farther end, where two chairs stood by themselves. “Sit down, Duncan,” he said, dragging his seat nearer the window. “We’re out of ear-shot over here, and I’ve something important to say to you,” he stopped, and Duncan waited respectfully for him to continue. “I called up your house yesterday, and your butler told me your father was out of town.” “He went over to Philadelphia on business; we are expecting him back tomorrow or next day.” “I may not be in town when he returns; therefore I must speak to you,” the Admiral paused, “about a very delicate matter....” “Yes,” put in Duncan encouragingly, as his companion again paused. “Marjorie Langdon is in your mother’s employ, is she not?” “Yes.” But Duncan’s slight start was not observed by the Admiral, who continued his questions. “As companion to your sister?” “Yes,” replied Duncan for the third time. The Admiral turned in his chair and made sure that no one was in their vicinity, then leaned toward Duncan. “Marjorie Langdon was my secretary for the past two years; on November first, I discharged her because I found she was a thief.” For a second Duncan was blind to his surroundings. But Admiral Lawrence read nothing of his mental suffering in his expressionless face. Marjorie then was really a thief! Marjorie, his ideal in womanhood! His strong hands clenched themselves so tightly over the arms of his chair that the knuckles shone white. He had succeeded in conquering the suspicions he had harbored against Marjorie after the mysterious disappearance of his father’s forty dollars. Marjorie, if guilty of the theft of the money, would never have mentioned the exact sum, one hundred and fifty dollars, when she handed him the bank notes to give his father. She _must_ have been innocent, he had reasoned, with dogged determination. Now another man thought her a thief! “I would not have disclosed her true character had I not heard that Marjorie was with your sister continually,” said the Admiral slowly. “It is not proper that a young girl should be subjected to such contaminating influences.”