ake in the matter."

Mr. Cooke sniffed suspiciously at the word "action."

"What action do you mean?" he demanded.

"Well," replied Mr. Trevor, with some hesitation, "before we take any
steps, that is, notify the police."

"Notify the police!" cried my client, his face red with a generous
anger. "I have never yet turned a guest over to the police," he said
proudly, "and won't, not if I know it. I'm not that kind."

Who shall criticise Mr. Cooke's code of morality?

"Fenelon," said his wife, "you must remember you have never yet
entertained a guest of a larcenous character. No embezzlers up to the
present. Marian," she continued, turning to Miss Thorn, "you spoke as
if you might, be able to throw some light upon this matter. Do you know
whether this gentleman is Charles Wrexell Allen, or whether he is the
author? In short, do you know who he is?"

The Celebrity lighted a cigarette. Miss Thorn said indignantly, "Upon my
word, Aunt Maria, I thought that you, at least, would know better than
to credit this silly accusation. He has been a guest at your house, and
I am astonished that you should doubt his word."

Mrs. Cooke looked at her niece perplexedly.

"You must remember, Marian," she said gently, "that I know nothing about
him, where he came from, or who he is. Nor does any one at Asquith,
except perhaps Miss Trevor, by her own confession. And you do not seem
inclined to tell what you know, if indeed you know anything."

Upon this Miss Thorn became more indignant still, and Mrs. Cooke went on
"Gentlemen, as a rule, do not assume names, especially other people's.
They are usually proud of their own. Mr. Allen appears among us, from
the clouds, as it were, and in due time we learn from a newspaper that
he has committed a defalcation. And, furthermore, the paper contains a
portrait and an accurate description which put the thing beyond doubt. I
ask you, is it reasonable for him to state coolly after all this that he
is another man? That he is a well-known author? It's an absurdity. I was
not born yesterday, my dear."

"It is most reasonable under the circumstances," replied Miss Thorn,
warmly. "Extraordinary? Of course it's extraordinary. And too long to
explain to a prejudiced audience, who can't be expected to comprehend
the character of a genius, to understand the yearning of a famous man
for a little quiet."

Mrs. Cooke looked grave.

"Marian, you forget yourself," she said.

"Oh, I am tired of it, Aun