"I reached here after midnight and knocked on the side door, but could not arouse Corbin," continued Alan. "Paul and I had often entered the house in the old days when he had forgotten his doorkey, by climbing up to the veranda roof and entering a window of his room. As I reached his window, which was conveniently open, I heard the front door bell ring loudly. I judged it was Betty arriving with Doctor Nash and, pausing to take off my muddy shoes and overcoat, I left them outside on the roof, and then dropped inside the bedroom and rushed over to speak to Paul. The bed was empty." "Great heavens!" Miriam stared, astounded, at Alan. "Where was Mr. Abbott?" "I don't know," admitted Alan. "At the time I supposed he was out in the hall, as I could hear voices. When they came closer I climbed into the empty bed, to avoid being seen, and pulled the bedclothes up over me. I couldn't face Betty and Paul in their, what I supposed to be, hour of happiness. I was horrified when Betty and Nash came directly into the bedroom, and I suddenly realized that they took me for Paul." "Were you wearing a false beard?" asked Trenholm. "No, not a false one. I had let my beard grow for the past two weeks," explained Alan, "and shaved it off on Tuesday morning. To go back to the scene in the bedroom--the lamp had gone out, and except for the firelight the room was dark, and I prayed that Betty would leave without recognizing me. Before I could collect my senses, Doctor Nash read the marriage service--" "And you made the responses?" "Yes; the doctor prompted me." Alan flushed hotly, then paled. "I think I was mad that night. My voice is like Paul's." "It was your greatest point of resemblance," commented Trenholm, "and the recollection of it finally gave me the key to the situation." Alan turned to Miriam and spoke with honest contrition. "I didn't know that Paul had a nurse," he said. "You weren't here in the morning. I was still lying in Paul's bed, trying dazedly to plan something--anything--when I heard some one return and walk swiftly to the bed. I heard your outcry and the sound of your fall, and," in shame-faced honesty, "I bolted out of the window, gathered up my hat, coat and shoes, and fled." "Just a moment," broke in Trenholm. "How about the ring you gave Miss Carter?" Alan eyed him in surprise. "Oh, the ring?" he echoed. "Paul gave it to me Monday morning--that was why I happened to have it about me." "And why did Paul give you a ring which he valued with almost superstitious fervor?" inquired Trenholm. "It wasn't his original ring, but an exact replica which, Paul told me on Monday, he had had made for me. The original ring was a gold coin of the First century of the Christian era and belonged to my grandfather, another Alan Mason--" "The suicide?" Alan winced slightly as he bowed. "I don't know Paul's motive in having the ring copied for me--he often did freakish, unaccountable things."