you--where are you going?" demanded Post.

"I'm going home first," cried Cochran, "to put those pictures in a
safe, as I should have done three months ago. And then I'm going to
find Chester Griswold and tell him he's an ass and a puppy!"

"If you do that," protested Post, "you're likely to lose us a very
valuable client."

"And your client," roared Charles, "is likely to lose some very
valuable teeth!"

As Charles whirled into the country road in which stood his house he
saw drawn up in front of it the long gray car in which, that morning,
Chester Griswold had called at the office. Cochran emitted a howl of
anger. Was his home again to be invaded? And again while he was
absent? To what extreme would Griswold's jealousy next lead him? He
fell out of his own car while it still moved, and leaped up the garden
walk. The front rooms of the house were empty, but from his bedroom he
heard, raised in excited tones, the voice of Griswold. The audacity of
the man was so surprising, and his own delight at catching him
red-handed so satisfying, that no longer was Cochran angry. The Lord
had delivered his enemy into his hands! And, as he advanced toward his
bedroom, not only was he calm, but, at the thought of his revenge,
distinctly jubilant. In the passageway a frightened maid servant, who,
at his unexpected arrival, was now even more frightened, endeavored to
give him an explanation; but he waved her into silence, and, striding
before her, entered his bedroom.

He found confronting him a tall and beautiful young woman. It was not
the Aline Proctor he knew. It was not the well-poised, gracious, and
distinguished beauty he had seen gliding among the tables at Sherry's
or throwing smiles over the footlights. This Aline Proctor was a very
indignant young person, with flashing eyes, tossing head, and a
stamping foot. Extended from her at arm's length, she held a
photograph of herself in a heavy silver frame; and, as though it were a
weapon, she was brandishing it in the face of Chester Griswold. As
Cochran, in amazement, halted in the doorway she was exclaiming:

"I told you I didn't know Charles Cochran! I tell you so now! If you
can't believe me-"

Out of the corner of her flashing eyes the angry lady caught sight of
Cochran in the doorway. She turned upon the intruder as though she
meant forcibly to eject him.

"Who are you?" she demanded. Her manner and tone seemed to add: "And
what the deuce are you doing