and,
he addressed Mrs. Brewster. "How is Colonel McIntyre this morning?"

Mrs. Brewster's eyes opened at the question. "Quite well," she replied,
and prompted by her curiosity added: "What made you think him ill?"

"I stopped at Dr. Stone's office on the way down town, and his boy told
me the doctor had been sent for by Colonel McIntyre," Clymer explained.
"I hope neither of the twins is ill."

"No. Colonel McIntyre sent for Dr. Stone to attend Grimes--"

"The butler! Too bad he is ill; Grimes is an institution in the McIntyre
household." Clymer spoke with sincere regret, and Mrs. Brewster eyed
him approvingly; she liked good-looking men of his stamp. "Come in,
McDonald," as the bank teller appeared. "You know Mrs. Brewster?"

"Mr. McDonald was one of my first acquaintances in Washington," and Mrs.
Brewster smiled as she held out her hand.

"About this check, McDonald," Clymer handed it to the teller as he
spoke. "Who presented it?"

"Miss McIntyre."

"Which Miss McIntyre?" Mrs. Brewster put the question with swift
intentness.

"I can't tell one twin from the other," confessed McDonald. "But, as you
see, the check is made payable to Barbara McIntyre."

"The inference being that Barbara McIntyre presented the check for
payment," commented Clymer, and McDonald bowed. "It would seem,
therefore, that Barbara wrote your signature on the check, Mrs.
Brewster."

"No." The widow had whitened under her rouge, but her eyes did not
falter in their direct gaze. "The signature is genuine. I drew the
check."

The two men exchanged glances. The bank president was the first to break
the short silence. "In that case there is nothing more to be said," he
remarked, and picking up the check handed it to Mrs. Brewster. Without
a glance at it, she folded the paper and placed it inside her gold mesh
bag.

"I must not take up any more of your time," she said. "I thank
you--both."

"Mrs. Brewster." Clymer spoke impulsively. "I'd like to shake hands with
you."

Coloring warmly, the widow slipped her small hand inside his, and with
a friendly bow to McDonald, she walked through the bank, keeping up with
Clymer's long strides as best she could. As they crossed the sidewalk to
the waiting limousine they ran almost into the arms of Harry Kent, whose
rapid gait did not suit the congested condition of the "Wall Street"
of Washington. "I tried to reach you on the telephone this morning,"
exclaimed Mrs. Brewster, after greeting him.