tion that would be deplorable in every particular. You see
that, Judge?"

Judge Harvey got the covered meaning.

"I see. But what do they want to arrest you for?"

"On a most absurd charge," answered Mr. Pyecroft, smiling,--but eyes
straight into Judge Harvey's eyes. "They seem to think I am Thomas
Preston."

"Thomas Preston!" cried the Judge.

"Yes, the man that forged those Jefferson letters you bought."

Mr. Pyecroft saw the puzzled semi-recognition that he had observed in
the Judge's face the night before flash into amazed, full recognition.
Quickly but without appearance of haste, he stepped forward diverting
attention from the Judge's face, and made himself the center of the
party's eyes.

"You see, lieutenant and officers," he said easily, filling in time to
give Judge Harvey opportunity to recover and think--and still aiming
his meaning at the Judge, "you see, I have here summoned before you
the best possible witness to my identity. You threaten to arrest and
expose me and two other persons in this house. Judge Harvey knows, as
well as I know, how unfortunate it would be for these parties, and
how displeasing to Mrs. De Peyster, if you should make the very great
blunder of arresting me as Thomas Preston. Now, Judge Harvey,"--with
a joking smile,--"you know who I am. Will you please inform the
lieutenant whether I am the man you wish to have arrested?"

Judge Harvey stared, silent, his face twitching.

"Is what he says O.K., Judge?" queried Lieutenant Sullivan. "He ain't
the man you want arrested?"

"He is not," the Judge managed to get out.

"From the way you hesitated--"

"The Judge's hesitation, Lieutenant," Mr. Pyecroft interrupted in his
pleasant tone, "was due to his amazement at the utter grotesqueness
of the situation. He was for a moment utterly taken aback. That's it,
isn't it, Judge?"

"Yes," said Judge Harvey.

The lieutenant twisted his derby in chagrined, ireful hands.

"Some of my men have been damned fools again!" he exploded. He got
himself back under control. "Judge Harvey, I hope you'll excuse our
buttin' in like this--and--and won't find it necessary to mention it
to the heads of the department."

"It's--it's all right," said the Judge.

"And you, Mr.--Mr.--"

"Simpson--Archibald Simpson," supplied Mr. Pyecroft.

"Mr. Simpson, I hope you don't mind this too much?"

"No ill feeling at all, Lieutenant," Mr. Pyecroft said graciously.
"Such little mistakes must occasiona