med to think that settled it. I let her keep
the idea.

"Run along, Barbara," I said, "get to your paint daubing. I'll forgive
you everything for deducing--well, discovering, if you like that
better--about these bolts and magnets."

Skeet burst from the kitchen door of the Thornhill house, caught sight
of us, shouted something unintelligible, and came racing through the
grounds toward Vandeman's.

"Been waiting for me long, angel?" she called, as Barbara moved up with
a lagging step, then, waving two pairs of overalls, "Got pants for both
of us, honey. The paints and brushes are over there. We'll make short
work of that old banner, now."

Promised Worth, had I? But the situation was changed since then. No man
of sense could object to my moving on what I had now. I locked the study
door, went back to my roadster, and headed her uptown.

CHAPTER XXV

AN ARREST

It was a thankful if not a joyous Jerry Boyne who crossed the front
pergola of the Vandeman bungalow that evening in the wake of Worth
Gilbert, bound for an informal dinner. The tall, unconscious lad who
stepped ahead of me had been made safe in spite of himself. This weight
off my mind, I felt kindly to the whole world, to the man under whose
dining table we were to stretch our legs, whose embarrassing private
affairs I had uncovered. He'd taken it well--seconding his wife's dinner
invitation, meeting my eye frankly whenever we encountered. My mood was
expansive. When Vandeman himself opened the door to us, explaining that
he was his own butler for the day, I saw him quite other than he had
ever appeared to me.

For one thing, here in his own house--and this was the first time I had
ever been in it--you got the man with his proper background, his
suitable atmosphere. The handsome living room into which he took us,
showed many old pieces of mahogany, and some of the finest oriental
stuff I ever saw; books in cases, sets of standard writers, such as
people of culture bought thirty or forty years ago, some family pictures
about. This was Vandeman; a lot behind such a fellow, after all, if he
did seem rather a lightweight.

Ina joined us, very beautifully dressed. She also showed the ability to
sink unpleasant considerations in the present moment of hospitality. We
lingered a moment chatting, then,

"Shall we go and look at the artists working?" she suggested, and led
the way. We followed out onto a flagged terrace at the rear. A dozen
great musl