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knew his crooks and didn't often make a mistake.
    It was so that Lavira was ushered into police headquarters where she was greeted by the sight of her misguided son sitting in one corner of the room, in close confab with two stern-looking policemen. He sat there in front of his inquisitors filled with assurance, his one long wavy lock of hair hanging jauntily over his handsome, dejected face, like a banner, to which he occasionally gave a careless toss, but his mouth was grim and sullen as he tried to explain to the police how it came about that his fingerprints were on the window that had been jimmied open in the Thurston house, and what he was looking for in the Thurston desk drawers; also how it was that he came to have several old canceled checks in his pocket that bore Mr. Thurston's signature, and what he had been planning to do with them. His excuse for the latter, that he wanted the checks for souvenirs of his beloved uncle, did not seem to go down with the police, as they knew well by now that Mr. Thurston was neither his uncle, nor beloved.
    Meanwhile, back at the Thurston house, Eden lay in her own quiet room, getting a much-needed rest. All that day she was watched over by her faithful servants, careful that nothing should disturb her.
    And then the next morning, all too early for the careful plans to guard her, it was the telephone by her bed that roused her from her long refreshing sleep.

Chapter 3
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    "Hello, beautiful! How are you?" breezed a voice out of the past. "How are you fixed for the day? Ready to run off for a few hours and have a jolly time? I'm here on leave for the day, and I want to make the most of it, if it's okay with you."
    Eden was silent for a minute or two, blinking at the instrument in startled bewilderment, unable for an instant to identify the voice, it seemed so much more mature than when she last heard it. Then it came to her. He would be older of course than when he went away to war two years ago, or was it more?
    "Oh!" she exclaimed in amazement. "Why, it's Caspar Carvel, isn't it? But I thought you were away in the Philippines somewhere, or even in Japan. How grand to know you're home. How did you get here without letting us know? And where have you been all this time?"
    "Oh, here and there," said the laughing voice.
    "But you never wrote to us but once!" reproached Eden.
    "Well, I know, I never was much of a correspondent, you know. Besides, they kept us awfully busy in the army. I just didn't have time. But anyhow, I'm here now, and I have to leave tonight. I'm due up in New York to do some broadcasting, and I can't tell when I can get back, so I thought I'd call you up. How about it? Can you give me the day, and perhaps part of the evening if we can find some good show or a nice dump for dinner and a dance? Will you go? You know it's a long time since we went gadding together, old girl, and I don't want to waste any time. Hurry up and say yes. I haven't got another nickel handy and I want to get this settled. I'll come for you in three quarters of an hour. And make it snappy. Can you be ready in that time? Wear something pretty smart. I may want to introduce you to a coupla the fellows if we happen to meet them. This all okay?"
    Eden caught her breath. Could this really be Caspar Carvel? He didn't sound the least like her old friend and playmate. The handsome boy who had been her playmate in high school, and who had been almost daily running in and out of their house. She hesitated, and the voice on the other end of the wire grew impatient:
    "I say! Are you there, Eden! Didn't you hear me? I'm in an awful rush, and I haven't got another nickel handy."
    "But--are you really Caspar Carvel? Somehow your voice sounds so different! I didn't recognize it at first. You seem so grown up!" There was a little sad reproach in her tone.
    "Well, good night! One does grow up, you know. And I guess there's no place to accomplish that quicker than in the army. Do you mind?"
    There was a sharp