It was the Representative’s turn to hesitate. “Suppose you leave me at the club instead,” he said finally. “Good night, Madame Yvonett.” “Good night, friend,” the Quakeress accompanied the two men to her front door. “Do not forget thee must come again soon.” “I certainly will,” and raising his hat, Calhoun-Cooper stepped into the motor. He watched Madame Yvonett until she closed the door. “A gentlewoman of the old school, Nichols,” he commented softly. “Cultured, brilliant, kindly----” “She is that and then some,” exclaimed Tom enthusiastically. “Cousin Yvonett is a brick.” Calhoun-Cooper smiled. “Hardly the expression I should have selected, but perhaps it covers my meaning.” He said no more until the car drew up before his club. “Come in with me, Nichols, I am anxious to have an uninterrupted talk with you. I will detain you but a few minutes.” Barely waiting for Tom’s assent, he strode into the club and led the way to a small unoccupied room and carefully closed the door. Tom took the chair pushed toward him, and waited with some uneasiness for his companion to explain why he wished to see him. He wondered if Calhoun-Cooper had heard of some of Joe’s Washington escapades, and if he was to be catechised on the subject. “Miss Marjorie Langdon is your cousin, is she not?” asked Calhoun-Cooper, breaking the silence. “Yes; my second cousin, to be exact.” “Can you tell me where she procured the emerald and diamond bracelet which she pledged with the Justice of the Peace at Hyattsville...?” “Can I what?” exclaimed Tom, in profound astonishment. Calhoun-Cooper repeated the question. “May I ask what earthly business it is of yours?” demanded Tom. “The bracelet happens to belong to my daughter, Pauline,” was the calm reply. Hardly able to believe his ears, Tom sat back in his chair and glared at Calhoun-Cooper. “I was motoring down from Baltimore Christmas afternoon, and was arrested for speeding just after your release,” continued the Representative, receiving no response from his dumfounded companion. “While paying my fine I saw and recognized Pauline’s bracelet lying on the desk before the Justice of the Peace. He informed me it had been left there by Miss Marjorie Langdon.” Tom’s convulsive start was not lost on Calhoun-Cooper. “Will you kindly tell me how your cousin obtained possession of my daughter’s bracelet?” Tom stared stupidly at his questioner. “You’re cra--crazy,” he stuttered. “My cou--cousin left her--left her own bracelet with the Justice.” “She did no such thing,” shortly. “I examined the bracelet carefully; it belonged to my mother before I gave it to my daughter, and her initials, my father’s, and the date of the wedding are engraved on the inside of the bracelet. There was no possibility of my being mistaken. Did you redeem the bracelet?” “Yes.” “Let me see it?” holding out his hand. “I can’t; I’ve returned it....” “In that case,” slowly, “suppose we ask Miss Langdon for it.”