“Will you be good enough to turn around?” I demanded at last. “Oh!” he said wheeling. “Are YOU here?” There wasn’t any reply to that, so I took the watch and placed it on the library table between us. The effect was all that I had hoped. He stared at it for an instant, then at me, and with his hand outstretched for it, stopped. “Where did you find it?” he asked. I couldn’t understand his expression. He looked embarrassed, but not at all afraid. “I think you know, Mr. Harbison,” I retorted. “I wish I did. You opened it?” “Yes.” We stood looking at each other across the table. It was his glance that wavered. “About the picture--of you,” he said at last. “You see, down there in South America, a fellow hasn’t much to do in the evenings, and a--a chum of mine and I--we were awfully down on what we called the plutocrats, the--the leisure classes. And when that picture of yours came in the paper, we had--we had an argument. He said--” He stopped. “What did he say?” “Well, he said it was the picture of an empty-faced society girl.” “Oh!” I exclaimed. “I--I maintained there were possibilities in the face.” He put both hands on the table, and, bending forward, looked down at me. “Well, I was a fool, I admit. I said your eyes were kind and candid, in spite of that haughty mouth. You see, I said I was a fool.” “I think you are exceedingly rude,” I managed finally. “If you want to know where I found your watch, it was down in the coal cellar. And if you admit you are an idiot, I am not. I--I know all about Bella’s bracelet--and the board on the roof, and--oh, if you would only leave--Anne’s necklace--on the coal, or somewhere--and get away--” My voice got beyond me then, and I dropped into a chair and covered my face. I could feel him staring at the back of my head. “Well, I’ll be--” something or other, he said finally, and then he turned on his heel and went out. By the time I got my eyes dry (yes, I was crying; I always do when I am angry) I heard Jim coming downstairs, and I tucked the watch out of sight. Would anyone have foreseen the trouble that watch would make! Jim was sulky. He dropped into a chair and stretched out his legs, looking gloomily at nothing. Then he got up and ambled into his den, closing the door behind him without having spoken a word. It was more than human nature could stand. When I went into the den he was stretched on the davenport with his face buried in the cushions. He looked absolutely wilted, and every line of him was drooping. “Go on out, Kit,” he said, in a smothered voice. “Be a good girl and don’t follow me around.” “You are shameless!” I gasped. “Follow you! When you are hung around my neck like a--like a--” Millstone was what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t think of it. He turned over and looked up from his cushions like an ill-treated and suffering cherub. “I’m done for, Kit,” he groaned. “Bella went up to the studio after we left, and investigated that corner.”