he bag to its owner. You had assured me of this
much. As to your address, I could not give it, and your name I did not
know; but I added the promise that should I chance to meet you, as I
might, I would ask you to send the bag to the lady's address.'

'Pardon--was this the lady's proposition?'

'No. She asked me to get it from you--the bag.'

'And to restore it through her?'

'Yes.'

'And the address? Did she give you the young lady's address, the
owner's, or her own?'

'She gave the owner's address.'

'Then if you will give it to me I can promise that to-morrow will see
the little bag in its owner's possession.'

He took from his pocket a visiting card, upon which was engraved the
name June E. Jenrys, and underneath in pencil the address.

I had seen just such a card, minus the pencilled address, in Miss
Jenrys' card-tray on Washington Avenue; and that pencilled address! It
was that of the cafe to which Miss Jenrys was to send her note
concerning the evening excursion.

I had not spoken of the adventure of the bag during the afternoon, and
I had not meant to do so. Since our last meeting my position in
relation to Miss Jenrys had been changed. I was now in some degree the
guardian of her interests, and while I believed in and admired this
handsome and secretive stranger guard, and might have entrusted him
with a secret all my own, perhaps, my mouth was closed concerning the
young lady whom he professed to know yet was unwilling to meet.

As I looked at the tall, lithe figure, the erect head and handsome
face, I wondered what this mystery could be which caused him to
withhold his name from those who might be his friends; to shun a
lovely girl whom he knew and in whom he was evidently interested; and,
above all, which linked him, as was now fairly proven, through the
wily brunette, with the strange pursuit of Miss Jenrys. Was it
possible, I asked myself, that this medley of mysterious happenings
could reach back through the brunette to Greenback Bob, the
counterfeiter, and Delbras, the king of confidence men?

CHAPTER XVI.

THAT LITTLE DECOY.

I stowed the false address in my waistcoat pocket, and after promising
to see the guard again on the next day, a promise which I fully
intended to keep, and exchanging a few friendly but important
sentences with him, we shook hands and separated. We had grown almost
friendly in our manner each toward each, in spite of the fact that
neither knew the name o