cion as Caesar's wife.

"No use talking, Swift," he responded to my attempts to rally him out
of his humor; "the taint will stick to me. People will say I 'm the
fellow who was arrested for killing his uncle so that he could inherit
his fortune. They 'll always point me out and shake their heads and
say I was released only because the police couldn't find evidence to
convict me. I hope to Heaven the old man made a will giving all his
money to charity."

"Faugh!" Such morbid talk was thoroughly exasperating. "Mr. Fluette
had a much narrower escape than you did."

"Perhaps," he admitted heavily. "But nobody knows it outside of you
and his family. I can't go to Belle with the odor of prison clinging
to me. And what's more, I sha'n't."

"If you don't," I said quietly, "you 'll break her heart. Your
suffering has been as nothing compared with hers." Then I lost my
patience completely. "Maillot," I flung at him, "you're a damned
fool!" And I swung on my heel and strode away.

"Hi! Swift! Come back here!" he yelled after me. In the next second
he had caught hold of my arm and jerked me to a standstill.

"Good Lord, man! I did n't know you had such a nasty temper! Here you
come and drag me out of jail, telling me I 'm innocent and all that
sort of thing, and because I don't strike out hot-footed and throw
myself into the presence of the cleanest, sweetest girl in the world,
you think I 'm an ass.

"Look here. _I_ knew I was innocent; but at the same time I did n't
try to blink my compromising predicament. I wouldn't blame _any_
fair-minded person for being suspicious of me. But everything 's
happened so sudden--I can't understand,--and--well, hang it, Swift! you
have n't made yourself clear, by a long shot. If you think I ought to
go to Belle, why, I 'll go."

"Then let's go together," said I.

And we did.

After we had boarded a car, I reverted to the matter of the will.

"I don't think it's likely that any will will turn up," I told him. "I
have talked with Mr. Ulysses White about it, and he said that Felix
Page was one of the sort who have a holy horror of last testaments. If
the old gentleman ever made any such disposition of his property, Mr.
White had no hand in it."

To dismiss the matter, I will say here that no will ever did turn up,
and that Maillot inherited the entire Page fortune. I merely mentioned
this topic to pave the way for that of the ruby.

"Not the least part of the