ver _do_ you mean?"

"I mean that you are the accomplice of that woman who calls herself a
medium,--that woman who is a fraud, a fake, a miserable charlatan! You
came to the house to get some more belongings of Mr. Crane's dead
son's,--in order to take them to the Parlato woman and let her trade
further on an old man's credulity! That's what you were there for!"

Zizi's nerves were at high tension. She thoroughly believed every word
she said, and she felt that perhaps the best way to make this man own up
was to put the case thus straightforwardly.

Peter Boots looked at her, his expression changing from amazement to
amusement and then to sympathy.

"No," he said gently, "I didn't do that. I swear I didn't."

"Then why were you there?"

Uncertain what to say, Peter just sat and looked at her.

And somehow,--by some subtle intelligence or telepathic flash--all of a
sudden,--Zizi knew!

"Oh," she breathed, her eyes like stars, "oh,--you're Peter Boots!"

Slowly, Peter nodded his head.

"Yes," he said, "I am. Now, what are we going to do about it?"

"Do about it? Why, everything! Oh,--wait a minute,--let me take it
in,--let me think what it will mean----"

"To father? Yes, I know."

These two, so lately strangers, were immediately at one. Zizi, with her
instantaneous understanding and quick appreciation saw the whole
situation at once, and realized fully its tragedy.

"It can't be, you know," she cried out; "it mustn't be! Think of
the----"

"I know," returned Peter, "I've thought."

Instead of being appalled at the knowledge that his secret was out,
Peter felt a positive relief, a sudden let-down of his strained nerves,
and a queer sensation of confidence in this strange girl's powers to set
things right.

Peter's intuitions were quick and true; Zizi was not only charming, but
gave an effect of capability and efficiency that were as balm and
comfort to poor, harassed Peter.

He was willing to nail his colors to her mast; to give his affairs and
perplexities into her hands; to abide by her decisions.

And Zizi accepted the tremendous responsibility gravely.

"But it is all too wonderful," she said. "What happened? Where have you
been?"

"Two broken legs,--compound fractures,--frozen
feet,--gangrene--ugh!--fierce--cut it out!"

"The gangrene!" cried Zizi, horrified.

"Yes, but I didn't mean that. I meant can the description of my
sufferings! They'd put the early Christian martyrs to the blush. T