"You must have bridesmaids, of course. And I don't think you could do better than your own god-daughter. She'll be over the whooping-cough by that time, I hope." "I'd like that very much," said the Major. "But isn't she rather small?" "Not at all. She can be led up the aisle immediately behind the bride. Sabina Gallagher can lead her. I'm going to engage Sabina as nurse and general servant. Now that Simpkins is going, Doyle can get that red-haired girl, Sabina's cousin. She'll do him quite well for all he wants. And he never properly appreciated Sabina. Shall we regard that as settled?" "I suppose it will be all right." "Quite," said Meldon. "You may safely leave it in my hands. And now, Major, since everything has worked out in such a satisfactory way for you, I hope you'll try and feel more kindly towards poor Simpkins. He'll suffer a lot as it is; and I don't think you ought to make any further attempt on his life. I always thought you were going too far in your resentment." "J. J., I really--" "The judge will let you fish anywhere you like; so that you haven't a ghost of a grievance left." "I'll ask Simpkins to the wedding if you like." "That," said Meldon, "would be a refinement of cruelty, and I won't consent to its being done. Wanting to kill the man was bad enough. I never liked it. But what you propose now is infinitely worse. Why can't you forgive the wretched creature, and then forget all about him?" * * * * * * It was half-past twelve o'clock. Major Kent, in spite of the excitement of the afternoon, was sound asleep when he was roused by a sharp knocking at his door. He sat up in bed and struck a match. "Good gracious, J. J.," he said, "what on earth do you want at this time of night? Why aren't you asleep?" "I couldn't sleep," said Meldon, "with the feeling on my mind that I had been doing a wrong--quite without malice and under circumstances which excuse it, but still doing a wrong to Miss King." "You mean in mistaking her--" "Quite so." "That'll be all right, J. J. Don't worry about it. Go back to bed again." "I'm not worrying in the least," said Meldon. "I never worry; but when I've done a wrong to anybody, I like to make amends at once." "You can't do anything to-night. It's too late. Do go back to bed." "I have done something. I've made amends, and here they are. I want you to give them to her to-morrow morning." He held out a sheet of paper as he spoke. "If that's a written apology," said the Major, "it's quite unnecessary. But you can leave it on the dressing-table. It's nice of you to think of making it." "It's not an apology," said Meldon. "Apologies are futile things. This is something that will be of some use and real value to Miss King. It's the end of a novel." "What are you talking about?"