Nobody. Vance Louis Joseph

away, considerately enough-up-stairs and out through the scuttle-the way he broke in, you know. Surprisingly spry on his feet for a man of his weight and age-had all I could do to keep up. He did stop once, true, as if he'd forgotten something, but the sword ran into him-I happened thoughtlessly to be carrying it-only a quarter of an inch or so-and he changed his mind, and by the time I got my head through the scuttle he was gone-vanished utterly from human ken!"

      "He had broken the scuttle open, you say?"

      "Pried it up with a jimmy."

      "And you left it so? He'll go back."

      "No, he won't. I found hammer and nails and made all fast before I left."

      "But," she demanded, wide-eyed with wonder, "why did you take that trouble?"

      "My silly conceit, I presume. I couldn't bear the thought of having that roughneck return and muss up one of my neatest jobs."

      "I don't understand you at all," she murmured, utterly confounded.

      "Nor I you, if it matters. Still, I'm sure you won't keep me much longer in suspense, considering how open-faced I've been. But here's that animal of a waiter again."

      She was willingly silent, though she exerted herself to seem at ease with indifferent success. The voice of her companion was like a distant, hollow echo in her hearing; her wits were all awhirl, her nerves as taut and vibrant as banjo-strings; before her vision the face of Blue Serge swam, a flesh-tinted moon now and again traversed by a flash of white when he smiled.

      "Come!" the man rallied her sharply, if in an undertone, "this will never do. You're as white as a sheet, trembling and staring as if I were a leper-or a relation by marriage or-something repulsive!"

      She sat forward mechanically and mustered an uncertain smile. "Forgive me. I'm a little overwrought-the heat and-everything."

      "Not another word, then, till you've finished. I'll do the talking, if it's all the same to you. But you needn't answer-needn't listen, for that matter. I've no pride in my conversational powers, and you mustn't risk losing your appetite."

      He seemed to find it easy enough to make talk; but Sally spared him little attention, being at first exclusively preoccupied with the demands of her hunger, and later-as the meal progressed, renewing her physical strength and turning the ebbing tide of her spirits-thoroughly engaged with the problem of how to extricate herself from this embarrassing association or, if extrication proved impossible, how to turn it to her own advantage. For if the affair went on this way-his way-she were a sorry adventuress indeed.

      Small cups of black coffee stood before them, steaming, when a question roused her, and she shook herself together and faced her burglar across the cloth, once more full mistress of her faculties.

      "You're feeling better'?"

      "Very much," she smiled, "and thank you!"

      "Don't make me uncomfortable; remember, this is all your fault.

      "That I'm here, alive and whole, able to enjoy a most unique situation. Who are you?"

      But she wasn't to be caught by any such simple stratagem as a question plumped suddenly at her with all the weight of a rightful demand; she smiled again and shook her head.

      "Shan't tell."

      "But if I insist?"

      "Why don't you, then?"

      "Meaning insistence won't get me anything?"

      Sensitive to the hint of a hidden trump, she stiffened slightly.

      "I haven't asked you to commit yourself. I've got a right to my own privacy."

      There fell a small pause. Lounging, an elbow on the table, a cigarette fuming idly between his fingers, the man favoured her with a steady look of speculation whose challenge was modified only by the inextinguishable humour smouldering in his eyes-a look that Sally met squarely, dissembling her excitement. For with all her fears and perplexity she could never quite forget that, whatever its sequel, this was verily an adventure after her own heart, that she was looking her best in a wonderful frock and pitting her wits against those of an engaging rogue, that she who had twelve hours ago thought herself better dead was now living intensely an hour of vital emergency.

      "But," the man said suddenly, and yet deliberately, "surely you won't dispute my right to know who makes free with my own home?"

      Her bravado was extinguished as suddenly as a candle-flame in a gust of wind.

      "Your home?" she parroted witlessly.

      "Mine, yes. If you can forgive me." He fumbled for his card-case. "It has been amusing to play the part you assigned me of amateur cracksman, but really, I'm afraid, it can't be done without a better make-up."

      He produced and placed before her on the cloth a small white card; and as soon as its neat black script ceased to writhe and run together beneath her gaze she comprehended the name of Mr. Walter Arden Savage, with a residence address identical with that of the house wherein her great adventure had begun.

      "You!" she breathed aghast, "you're not really Mr. Savage?"

      He smiled indulgently. "I rather think I am."

      "But-"

      Sally's voice failed her entirely, and he laughed a tolerant little laugh as he bent forward to explain.

      "I don't wonder you are surprised-or at your mistake. The fact is, the circumstances are peculiar. It's my sister's fault, really; she's such a flighty little thing-unpardonably careless. I must have warned her a hundred times, if once, never to leave valuables in that silly old tin safe. But she won't listen to reason-never would. And it's her house-her safe. I've got no right to install a better one. And that is why we're here."

      He smiled thoughtfully down his nose. "It's really a chapter of accidents to which I'm indebted for this charming adventure," he pursued with a suavely personal nod, "beginning with the blow-out of the taxicab tire that made us five minutes late for this evening's boat. We were bound up the Sound, you understand, to spend a fortnight with a maternal aunt. And our luggage is well on its way there now. So when we missed the boat there was nothing for it but go by train. We taxied back here through that abominable storm, booked for Boston by the eleven ten, and ducked across the way to dine at the Biltmore. No good going home, of course, with the servants out-and everything. And just as we were finishing dinner this amiable sister of mine gave a whoop and let it out that she'd forgotten her jewels. Well, there was plenty of time. I put her aboard the train as soon as the sleepers were open-ten o'clock, you know-and trotted back home to fetch the loot."

      A reminiscent chuckle punctuated his account, but struck no echo from Sally's humour. Moveless and mute, the girl sat unconsciously clutching the edge of the table as if it were the one stable fact in her whirling world; all her bravado dissipating as her daze of wonder yielded successively to doubt, suspicion, consternation.

      "I said there was plenty of time, and so there was, barring accidents. But the same wouldn't be barred. I manufactured the first delay for myself, forgetting to ask Adele for the combination. I knew where to find it, in a little book locked up in the desk; but I hadn't a key to the desk, so felt obliged to break it open, and managed that so famously I was beginning to fancy myself a bit as a Raffles when, all of a sudden-Pow!" he laughed-"that fat devil landed on my devoted neck with all the force and fury of two hundredweight of professional jealousy!

      "And then," he added, "in you walked from God knows where-"

      His eyes affixed a point of interrogation to the simple declarative.

      She started nervously in response, divided between impulses which she had no longer sufficient wit to weigh. Should she confess, or try to lie out of it?

      Must she believe this glibly simple and adequate account or reject it on grounds of pardonable skepticism?

      If this man were what he professed to be, surely he must recognise her borrowed plumage as his sister's property. True, that did not of necessity follow; men have so little understanding of women's clothing; it pleases them or it displeases, if thrust upon their attention, but once withdrawn it is forgotten utterly. Such might well be the case in this present instance;