e to her feet. She was blushing.

"Haven't you anything to say to me--Jack?"

And now Jack blushed.

"Anything to say?" But he smiled guiltily.

"Really!" she exclaimed, frowning.

Jack came very close to her, his hands at his side, but looking
straight into her eyes.

"Yes, I have something to say. I have n't any right to, but I 'm going
to, just the same. Anne Wellington, I love you! I honor you! Since
that night at the Grand Central Station--hang it, Anne, I can't make a
speech, much as I should like to. I love you, that's all,
and--and--and--" He stopped short.

She laughed that quick, fluttering laugh of happiness, much more
eloquent than words. "Jack," she said, "that night I stood with you on
the bridge of the _D'Estang_--then I knew I loved you."

The next instant she was crushed in his arms.

"Oh--Jack!"

There were no more words. But why words? As the tide ebbed and
murmured and the birds sang in the trees above, they stood silent,
immured from all the world, these two, but neither doubting nor fearing.

CHAPTER XXVI

CONCLUSION

In the library of The Crags, the light of dawn stole in through the
windows and turned the brilliant light of the lamps into a pale glow.
The odor of stale flowers was all about. Mrs. Wellington, with a
headache, stood in the doorway. Her husband sat in an armchair with
legs outstretched, smoking about his fortieth cigar. Sara Van
Valkenberg stood in the middle of the floor. She had been speaking at
great length and with many gestures and not once had she been
interrupted. When at last she concluded, there was a long silence.

"Well, Belle?" said Ronald Wellington at last, turning his head toward
his wife.

"Oh, I am not surprised," said Mrs. Wellington grimly. "I always
suspected Koltsoff of some deviltry. I hoped only that it would remain
beneath the surface until after the ball. It did. I have not the
slightest complaint."

"So; he used this house as a rendezvous for spies!" Mr. Wellington bit
at his cigar savagely. "Where is he now?"

"He motored to town an hour or two ago," replied Sara. "His secretary
told Miss Hatch that they had booked for the _Metric_ to-morrow."

Mr. Wellington could not repress a smile.

"Well," he said, "and where is this Armitage fellow now? Where is
Anne?"

Sara laughed.

"When I last saw her she was searching for Lieutenant Armitage."

"H'mm." Mr. Wellington looked at his wife gravely. "What