ided to place it in the trunk, and went to the bed
where he had folded and left it. It was not there. Nor did a thorough
search reveal it anywhere in the room. Yet no one could have stolen it,
for when he had gone down to the office Crailey had remained on this
floor. Mamie had come within a few minutes after Crailey went out, and
during his conversation with her the office-door had been open; no one
could have passed without being seen. Also, a thief would have taken
other things as well as the uniform; and surely Crailey must have heard;
Crailey would--Crailey--!

Then Tom remembered the figure in the long cloak and the military cap,
and, with a sick heart, began to understand. He had read the Journal,
and he knew why Crailey might wish to masquerade in a major's uniform
that night. If Miss Carewe read it too, and a strange wonder rose in her
mind, this and a word would convince her. Tom considered it improbable
that the wonder would rise, for circumstances had too well established
her in a mistake, trivial and ordinary enough at first, merely the
confusing of two names by a girl new to the town, but so strengthened by
every confirmation Crailey's wit could compass that she would, no doubt,
only set Cummings's paragraph aside as a newspaper error. Still, Crailey
had wished to be on the safe side!

Tom sighed rather bitterly. He was convinced that the harlequin would
come home soon, replace the uniform (which was probably extremely
becoming to him, as they were of a height and figure much the same), and
afterward, in his ordinary dress, would sally forth to spend his last
evening with Fanchon. Tom wondered how Crailey would feel and what he
would think about himself while he was changing his clothes, but he
remembered his partner's extraordinary powers of mental adjustment--and
for the first time in his life Vanrevel made no allowance for the
other's temperament, and there came to him a moment when he felt that he
could almost dislike Crailey Gray.

At all events, he would go out until Crailey had come and left again,
for he had no desire to behold the masquerader's return. So he exchanged
his dressing-gown for a coat, fastened his collar, and had begun to
arrange his cravat at the mirror, when, suddenly, the voice of the old
negress seemed to sound close beside him in the room.

"He's settin' dah--waitin'!"

The cravat was never tied; Tom's hands dropped to his sides as he
started back from the staring face in th