"You mustn't worry, dear," he insisted. "In all probability some one did look into the room by mistake, but it is very doubtful whether they would know who we were. It may have been Sparks, my man, or the night valet, seeing a light here. Remember what I told you a few minutes ago--there is no trouble now which shall come near you." She smiled, already reassured. "Of course, I am rather absurd," she said, "but then look at me! It is past one o'clock, and here am I in your rooms, with that terrible dressing case on the table, and without a hat, and still looking, I am afraid," she concluded, with a final glance into the glass, "a little tumbled." "You look," he told her fondly, "like a girl who has just realised for the first time in her life that she is loved." "How strange," she laughed happily,--"because that is exactly how I feel!" There was a knock at the door. A page entered, swinging a key in his hand. "Key of 440 for the lady, sir," he announced. "Quite right, my boy. Listen. Did you meet any one in the corridor?" "No one, sir." "You haven't been in here before without knocking, have you?" "No, sir," was the prompt reply. "I came straight up in the lift." Wingate turned to Josephine with a little shrug of the shoulders. "The mystery, then, is insoluble," he declared cheerfully, "but remember this, sweetheart," he added, as the boy stepped discreetly outside, "in small things as well as large, the troubles of this world for you are ended." "You don't know how wonderful it sounds to hear words like that," she sighed, as they stood hand in hand. "I shan't seem very selfish, John, shall I, if I ask for a little time to realise all this? I feel that everything I have and am ought to be yours at this moment, because you have made me so happy, because my heart is so full of gratitude. But, alas, I have my weaknesses! I am a very proud woman. Sometimes I am afraid I have been a little censorious--as regards others!" He stooped and kissed her fingers. "If you knew what it felt like," he whispered, as he held open the door for her, "to have something to wait for! And whether you realise it or not, you are with me--from now on--always--my inspiration--my daily happiness." CHAPTER XIII Peter Phipps, sitting in his private office, might have served as the very prototype of a genial, shrewd and successful business man. The apartment was plainly and handsomely furnished. Although, only a few yards away, was a private exchange and an operator who controlled many private wires, a single telephone only stood upon his desk. The documents which cumbered it were arranged in methodical little heaps. His manager stood by his side, with a long slip of paper in his hand. The two men had been studying it together.