make no fuss; but if you don't, I'll call a policeman."

Carrington overtook them. Holt was excited, wild-eyed, disheveled, and
seemed not to have slept for a week. Presidio coolly awaited events.

"Hello, Holt!" exclaimed Carrington. "How are you, old chap? Haven't
seen you for years."

"Good heavens, this is lucky!" cried Holt. "Carrington, since the night
your rooms were plundered I've been on the track of this villain. I was
bound to explain the mystery of that night; determined to prove that I
could unravel a plot, detect a crime! Do you understand? This is the
fellow who rifled your room. Robbed you!"

"Yes, I know, old fellow," Carrington replied soothingly, for he saw
that Holt was half hysterical from excitement. "He's always robbing me,
this chap is. It's a habit with him. I've come rather to like it. Walk
along with us, and I'll tell you all about it."

They turned the corner and walked down the side street, but only Holt
talked: of his sleepless nights and tireless days solving his first
crime case. A carriage drove up to the curb and Mrs. Presidio stepped
out. At a wink from Presidio Carrington stepped in.

"Betty," said Presidio to his wife, "shake hands with an old friend of
mine and of Mr. Carrington's. I want you to know him. Mr. Holt, shake
hands with Madame Courvatal, my wife."

"Why, Mr. Holt, glad to meet you personally!" exclaimed Betty. "This is
the gent, Willie, I've told you about: comes to the show every night
just before our turn, and goes out as soon as we are off."

"Glad you like the turn so much," Presidio said, smiling oddly. Holt,
with his hand to his brow was gasping. The carriage door opened and
Carrington's head emerged: "Oh, Holt, come here."

Holt, with a painfully dazed expression, went to the carriage. "My
dear," Carrington said to some one inside who was struggling to hide,
"this is Mr. Francis Holt; one of my oldest and dearest friends. He's
the discreetest fellow I know and will arrange the whole matter in a
minute. You must, darling! Fate has offered us a chance for life's
happiness, and as I say--Holt, like a good fellow, go into the parsonage
and explain who I am, and who Miss Caroline Curtis is. Your people know
all the Curtises, and we're going to get married, and--don't protest,
darling!--like a good chap, Holt, go and--for God's sake, man, don't
stare like that! You know us, and can vouch for us. Tell the parson that
the Curtises and Carringtons are always marry