Tom squirmed in his seat. Ask Marjorie? Then indeed the fat would be in the fire, and his promise to Janet to keep her presence at Hyattsville a profound secret would be broken. Marjorie would undoubtedly declare she had not been with him at Hyattsville. “You must be mistaken about the bracelet, sir,” he protested vehemently. “Call up and ask your daughter if she hasn’t her own.” “I asked her this morning, and she informed me it was not in her possession.” Tom turned white. What the devil was the man driving at? It _must_ be Janet’s bracelet; she would have been wearing none but her own that afternoon. A wealthy girl did not deck herself out in other people’s jewelry. “I intended seeing you before this, Nichols,” continued Calhoun-Cooper, after an appreciable pause. “But I have been exceedingly busy for the past four days, and have had no opportunity to take up the matter of the bracelet until today. I not only prize the piece of jewelry for its association and money value, but I am determined to find out _how_ that bracelet got out of my daughter’s possession.” “What did your bracelet look like?” Quickly Calhoun-Cooper told him, and Tom’s heart sank; it was an accurate description of the one Janet had pledged with the Justice and he had later redeemed. “Do you recognize it?” demanded the Representative, and Tom nodded a reluctant assent. “They sound the same,” he acknowledged cautiously. “But stranger coincidences have been known. Perhaps your daughter was also motoring on the Bladensburg Pike that afternoon.” “Don’t be a fool!” retorted Calhoun-Cooper roughly. “That bracelet was stolen....” “D--mn you!” Tom sprang for the other’s throat. “Take your hands off me!” thundered Calhoun-Cooper, struggling to free himself. “I’ll make you eat those words first,” and Tom’s grasp tightened. “I didn’t say your cousin stole the bracelet,” panted the other. “Have a little sense.” Slowly Tom released him, and the Representative straightened his rumpled collar and tie. “Suppose you explain exactly what you are driving at,” said Tom, resuming his seat. Calhoun-Cooper did not reply at once. “I went to Madame Yvonett’s intending to question her....” “Good Lord!” broke in Tom. “But on seeing that dear old Quakeress I couldn’t do it,” admitted Calhoun-Cooper. “I’m a great believer in caste, Nichols; no niece of Madame Yvonett’s will go wrong. Ask Marjorie Langdon to tell you the truth about that bracelet, and I will believe every word she says.” “Thanks,” mumbled Tom, at a loss for a longer answer. “I will let you speak to Miss Langdon; she’ll probably confide the whole matter to you,” added Calhoun-Cooper, rising, and Tom followed his example. “But remember, if I don’t get that bracelet back in two days with an adequate explanation, I’ll go to Miss Langdon myself, and if necessary--to the police.”