very unjust and impertinent."

"I don't mean to be impertinent," he said evenly. "And I have no
monopoly of injustice."

"What do you know about Uncle Hawley?"

"Your aunt--"'

"I won't hear a word against my aunt."

"Not from me, be assured. Your aunt, so you have just told me, believes
that your dog is in danger of being stolen. Why? Because she knows that
the person most interested has been scheming against the animal, and yet
she is afraid to warn you openly. Doesn't that indicate who it is?"

"Mr. Jones, I've no right even to let you talk like this to me. Have you
anything definite against Judge Ackroyd?"

"In this case, only suspicion."

Her head went up. "Then I think there is nothing more to be said."

The young man flushed, but his voice was steady as he returned:

"I disagree with you. And I beg you to cut short your visit here, and
return to your home at once."

In spite of herself the girl was shaken by his persistence. "I can't do
that," she said uneasily. And added, with a flash of anger, "I think you
had better leave this house."

"If I leave this house now I may never have any chance to see you
again."

The girl regarded him with level, non-committal eyes.

"And I have every intention of seeing you again--and--again--and again.
Give me a chance; a moment."

Average Jones' mind was of the emergency type. It summoned to its aid,
without effort of cerebration on the part of its owner, whatever was
most needed at the moment. Now it came to his rescue with the memory of
judge Ackroyd's encounter with the drug clerk, as mentioned by Bertram.
There was a strangely hopeful suggestion of some link between a
drug-store quarrel and the arrival of a million-dollar dog, "better
dead" in the hopes of his host.

"Miss Graham; I've gone rather far, I'll admit," said Jones; "but, if
you'll give me the benefit of the doubt, I think I can show you some
basis to work on. If I can produce something tangible, may I come
back here this afternoon? I'll promise not to come unless I have good
reason."

"Very well," conceded Miss Graham reluctantly, "it's a most unusual
thing. But I'll agree to that."

"Au revoir, then," he said, and was gone.

Somewhat to her surprise and uneasiness, Sylvia Graham experienced
a distinct satisfaction when, late that afternoon, she beheld her
unconventional acquaintance mounting the steps with a buoyant and
assured step. Upon being admitted, he went promptly to the point.