atly
at the deeply-laid snares of the man whose body now lay unhonored
at the morgue.

"You will have to run the company's affairs alone for a month,"
cheerfully said Jack Witherspoon; "for Atwater and I are to
accompany Miss Worthington out to Detroit. Only I bid you all now
to my wedding, which will occur in six months, and Miss Worthington
honors my Francine with throwing her home open for that quiet
ceremony. Atwater is to be the best man!"

"Where is your reward?" softly said Miss Worthington to the faithful
young physician, as they looked out on the evening stars together.

"I can wait!" simply said the young man, and their eyes dropped in
a strange confusion.

But Alice Worthington was in her mind already wondering when the
weary weeks would pass away and free her from the tie binding her
to the man secretly banished to Amoy.

CHAPTER XV.

MISS WORTHINGTON SHARES HER SECRET.

The time of roses had come and gone once more. The woodland was
turning to gold again around the beautiful country home of that
successful capitalist, Mr. John Witherspoon, at Fordham.

All the world knew of the stately glories of that recent wedding
festivity at Detroit, whereat, under the wedding bell of white
blossoms, Miss Francine Delacroix had given her hand to the man
whom all envied as he stood before them, the active intellectual
champion of Miss Alice Worthington.

The serene countenance of the young millionairess was placid, bearing
a dignity far beyond her years, when she marshalled the friends
of her youth to witness the marriage of the man whose skilful hand
now guided the vast eastern interests of the Worthington Estate.

It was only after the bewildering honeymoon days had passed that
Witherspoon, under the advice of Counselor Stillwell and the astute
executors, began to gather up all the loose ends of the Clayton
affair.

The permanent residence of Witherspoon in New York City was exacted
by the growing cares of the vast company's interests.

And so the young bridegroom had selected a temporary country house
until his vivacious helpmeet could be pleased in a choice of their
permanent city residence. Unchanged by the possession of his dead
friend's fortune, so romantically passed down to him, Witherspoon
ceased to try to unravel the dark complications of Hugh Worthington's
past.

There seemed to be some peculiar restraining influence which
sealed the lips of Messrs. Boardman and Warner, and