n telling him during the last half-hour--that I am the real _Deus ex
machina_ of the whole business. Why, if it hadn't been for me you two
would never have got married, and this merry party couldn't have
happened!"

A knock at the door caused Hermione to turn with a startled look. Try
as she might, she dreaded every such incident as the preliminary to a
stormy interview with her father.

"Unless I am greatly mistaken, ma'am," interposed Uncle Horace blandly,
"this will be a waiter coming to tell us that supper is ready."

As usual, he said the correct thing, and Steingall drew Hermione aside
while the table was being spread for the feast. He lost no time in
coming to the point. His first demand showed that he took nothing for
granted.

"I am bound to speak plainly, your ladyship," he said. "Is the
remarkable story told by Mr. John D. Curtis true?"

"Regarding the marriage?" said Hermione promptly.

"Yes."

"Well, as I do not know what he may have said, you can decide that
matter for yourself after you have heard my version. I am a fugitive
from Paris, where my father was endeavoring to force me into a
detestable union: I am practically a complete stranger in New York: I
had arranged with Monsieur de Courtois to become my husband, under a
clear agreement for money paid that the marriage should serve only as a
shield against my pursuers; he was prevented by some dreadful men from
keeping to-night's appointment, and Mr. Curtis came to me, intending to
break the news somewhat more gently than one might look for otherwise.
He heard my sad little explanation, and was sorry for me. As it
happened, he appreciated the real nature of my predicament, and, having
no ties to prevent such a daring step, offered me the protection of his
name until such time as I become my own mistress and am free to secure
a dissolution of the marriage."

"Will you tell me exactly what you mean?" said the detective. His
voice was kindly, and his expression gravely sympathetic, and Hermione
could not read the amused tolerance lurking behind the mask of those
keen eyes.

"I mean that I am yet what lawyers call an infant. In six months I
shall be twenty-one, and the coercion which has been used to force me
into marrying Count Ladislas Vassilan will be no longer possible."

"Do you forfeit an inheritance by refusing to obey Lord Valletort's
wishes?"

"No, unless with respect to my father's estate. My mother was wealthy,
and her mo