woman was an impostor, and the man was
the thief, and the papers were the papers which had been stolen from
the safe, and Iris Deseret was no other than his own Iris. But he must
not show the least sign of suspicion.

"What are you thinking about, Arnold?" asked Clara. "Your face is as
black as thunder. You are not sorry that Iris has returned, are you?"

"I was thinking of my engagement, Clara."

"Why, you are not tired of it already? An engaged man, Arnold, ought
not to look so gloomy as that."

"I am not tired of it yet. But I am unhappy as regards some
circumstances connected with it. Your disapproval, Clara, for one. My
dear cousin, I owe so much to you, that I want to owe you more. Now, I
have a proposition--a promise--to make to you. I am now so sure, so
very sure and certain, that you will want me to marry Miss Aglen--and
no one else--when you once know her, that I will engage solemnly not
to marry her unless you entirely approve. Let me owe my wife to you,
as well as everything else."

"Arnold, you are not in earnest."

"Quite in earnest."

"But I shall never approve. Never--never--never! I could not bring
myself, under any circumstances that I can conceive, to approve of
such a connection."

"My dear cousin, I am, on the other hand, perfectly certain that you
will approve. Why, if I were not quite certain, do you think I should
have made this promise? But to return to your newly-found cousin. Tell
me more about her."

"Well, I have discovered that she is a really very clever and gifted
girl. She can imitate people in the most wonderful way, especially
actresses, though she has only been to a theater once or twice in her
life. At Liverpool she heard some one sing what she calls a Tropical
Song, and this she actually remembers--she carried it away in her
head, every word--and she can sing it just as they sing it on the
stage, with all the vulgarity and gestures imitated to the very life.
Of course I should not like her to do this before anybody else, but it
is really wonderful."

"Indeed!" said Arnold. "It must be very clever and amusing."

"Of course," said Clara, with colossal ignorance, "an American lady
can hardly be expected to understand English vulgarities. No doubt
there is an American variety."

Arnold thought that a vulgar song could be judged at its true value by
any lady, either American or English, but he said nothing.

And then the young lady herself appeared. She had been driving