"It's too quaint that I should have borrowed money of him!" she said to herself, giggling under her breath like a schoolgirl. "Of course, on top of that, it's nothing at all that I should invite him to lunch and dine. And the funniest part is, it never once seemed queer at the time, or as if I could do anything else." At all events she had no regrets. The coincidence of Mr. Nickson Hilliard's appearance in New Orleans, just as her hour of need was striking, had given a bright side to what would otherwise have been a disagreeable and sordid adventure. Certainly there was something about him that inspired confidence. She felt that through him she might retrieve her bag; and, if, by chance, the money were intact she could pay him what she owed. He would then return the miniature frame, and it would not be necessary to give her address or say where she was going! Not that he would misuse such information. She was sure of this now, and she could not help being pleased that he had come back into her life just for one day--long enough to explain himself. Next morning, at a quarter-past ten precisely, a note was brought to her room. It began: "Dear Madam" (Nick had not dared venture upon "Dear Mrs. May"; it had not even occurred to him that he might), and informed her primly that the bag had arrived. Also it inquired in stiff language whether the writer might be permitted to place it in her hands. Angela laughed as she read, partly with pleasure because her bag was found, partly because the poor young man's stiffness amused her. She knew enough about him now to understand that it was shyness and ignorance of social customs; but earlier she might have thought she had offended him. "Anyway, he writes a good hand," she thought. "Full of character and strength and not a bit uneducated." "Ask Mr. Hilliard to come to my sitting-room," she said to the bellboy. A few minutes later Nick appeared, his manner strained in a painful endeavour to hide anxiety. "So you've got my bag. How splendid!" Angela exclaimed, as they shook hands. "I'm sure I have your efforts to thank more than those of the police." "No, indeed," said Nick valiantly. "The police of this town are a fine set of men." "How did they find it?" she asked eagerly. Nick looked grave. "Well, it seems there's--er--a kind of secret concerned," he explained. "The thing required is that we don't ask questions. And perhaps you'll agree, for what you want is the bag." Desperately obliterating all expression from his face, and hoping that his eyes were not anxious, Nick took from his pocket a gold bag whose diamonds, alternating with sapphires, sparkled as the sunshine struck them. Angela accepted it delightedly, with but a superficial glance at the bag itself. "Why, there's something inside!" she exclaimed. "Only money," he hurried to break the news. "Not the purse, nor the check-book. I'm mighty sorry, but they're both gone. The police did their best. May get them later."