t? And
what became of the murdered man, Mr. Blakeley?"

McKnight had the sense to jump into the conversation and save my reply.

"They say good Pittsburgers go to Atlantic City when they die," he
said. "So--we are reasonably certain the gentleman did not go to the
seashore."

The meal was over at last, and once in the drawing-room it was clear
we hung heavy on the hostess' hands. "It is so hard to get people for
bridge in September," she wailed, "there is absolutely nobody in town.
Six is a dreadful number."

"It's a good poker number," her husband suggested.

The matter settled itself, however. I was hopeless, save as a dummy;
Miss West said it was too hot for cards, and went out on a balcony that
overlooked the Mall. With obvious relief Mrs. Dallas had the card-table
brought, and I was face to face with the minute I had dreaded and hoped
for for a week.

Now it had come, it was more difficult than I had anticipated. I do not
know if there was a moon, but there was the urban substitute for it--the
arc light. It threw the shadow of the balcony railing in long black bars
against her white gown, and as it swung sometimes her face was in the
light. I drew a chair close so that I could watch her.

"Do you know," I said, when she made no effort at speech, "that you are
a much more formidable person to-night, in that gown, than you were the
last time I saw you?"

The light swung on her face; she was smiling faintly. "The hat with the
green ribbons!" she said. "I must take it back; I had almost forgotten."

"I have not forgotten--anything." I pulled myself up short. This was
hardly loyalty to Richey. His voice came through the window just then,
and perhaps I was wrong, but I thought she raised her head to listen.

"Look at this hand," he was saying. "Regular pianola: you could play it
with your feet."

"He's a dear, isn't he?" Alison said unexpectedly. "No matter how
depressed and downhearted I am, I always cheer up when I see Richey."

"He's more than that," I returned warmly. "He is the most honorable
fellow I know. If he wasn't so much that way, he would have a career
before him. He wanted to put on the doors of our offices, Blakeley and
McKnight, P. B. H., which is Poor But Honest."

From my comparative poverty to the wealth of the girl beside me was
a single mental leap. From that wealth to the grandfather who was
responsible for it was another.

"I wonder if you know that I had been to Pittsburg to see y