"During that interview," continued Alan, "Mrs. Warburton gave me the brief outline of what seemed to me a very improbable story."

"Ah!" There was a new shade in the lawyer's voice.

"And I am wondering," Alan goes on, "if your letter contains that same story."

"Possibly," said Mr. Follingsbee dryly.

"This note which you have given me, and which bears no signature, seems to indicate as much. Are you acquainted with its contents, sir?"

"I am not." There is a growing crispness in the lawyer's tone, which Alan is not slow to note.

"Then oblige me by reading it."

Mr. Follingsbee took the note and read it slowly.

"Don't you think," he said, looking up from its perusal, "that we had better begin by understanding each other?"

"I do."

"Very good: this note was left with me by--by such a man as I described to you."

"By a man in disguise?"

"Just so. This--this man in disguise, came to me in your behalf."

"In my behalf!" exclaimed Alan, in amazement.

"In your behalf. He told me you were in danger, and that the man you had most cause to fear was a certain detective: Van Vernet."

Alan Warburton stirred uneasily in his chair, and the old haughty look came slowly into his face.

"He said," went on the lawyer slowly, "that because of your pride, and your obstinacy, you were involving not only yourself but others, in a net that might, if your present course continued, ruin you utterly, and bring upon your cherished family honor a disagreeable blot, if not absolute disgrace. He did not give me an idea of the nature of the difference between yourself and this Vernet, but he laid out a very pretty plan by which to baffle him. And he said, as he went away: 'If Alan Warburton, under all his pride and obstinate clinging to a wrong idea, possesses the sound judgment that I believe him to have--and it's a pity he has not made better use of it,--he will confide in you, and act upon your advice, if not upon mine. Let him do this and we will baffle Vernet, and his precious secret will not be dragged to the light.

Let him continue in his present course, and Van Vernet will have his hand upon him within a week; the affair of this afternoon should convince him of this.'"

During this remarkable speech, Alan's face had taken on a variety of expressions. At the closing sentence he gave a quick start, and then sat perfectly still, with his profile toward his companion. After a time he turned his face toward the lawyer; and that personage, looking anxiously for a reply or comment, could read upon the handsome countenance only calm resolve and perfect self-control.

"Mr. Follingsbee," he began gravely, "do you understand this allusion to the events of the afternoon?"

"I do not."

"And yet you have confidence in this disguised stranger?"

"Have I alluded to him as a _stranger_, sir?"

Alan pa.s.sed his hand across his brow, and said slowly:

"He is not a stranger to you and, evidently, he knows me remarkably well; I might say too well."

"Ahem! You would be likely to recall your words, if you did."

"Mr. Follingsbee, _who_ is this man?"

"I am not at liberty to speak his name."

"_What_ is he, then?"

"First of all, a gentleman; a man whose championship does you honor, for it proves that he believes in you, in spite of this Van Vernet."

"Was it not a strange freak for this _gentleman_, disguised just as he afterward came to you, to enter my study window, and conceal himself in my cabinet?"

Mr. Follingsbee looked up with lively interest. "Did he do that?" he asked quickly.

"He did that."

"Well," said Mr. Follingsbee slowly, "I should say that it was quite like him. He did not talk of his own exploits when he came to me; I fancy his time was limited."

"Probably; now, Mr. Follingsbee, I think I see things, some things, in a clearer light. This organ-grinder of mine, this gentleman of yours, this anonymous friend, is a _detective_!"

"Umph!" mutters the lawyer, half to himself, "we are beginning to use our wits." Then in a louder tone: "Ah, so we are no longer lawyer and witness?"

"No," with a quiet smile; "we are two lawyers. Let us remain such."

"With all my heart," cries Mr. Follingsbee, extending his hand; "let us remain such."

Alan takes the proffered hand, and begins again.

"This champion of mine, then, is a detective; you admit that?"

"Well--yes."

"In espousing my cause, he is making active war upon Van Vernet?"

"So it appears."

"Then it is safe to say that aside from the interest he has seen fit to take in--in my family and family affairs, he has some personal issue with Mr. Vernet."

"Possibly."

"Then,--how fast we progress--our detective friend must be a remarkably clever fellow, or our chances are very slender. Mr. Vernet is called one of the ablest detectives on the city force."

"True."

"Mr. Follingsbee, have you faith in the ability of this champion-detective to cope with such a man as Vernet?"

"Well," says the elder gentleman slowly, "if you play your part, I'll vouch for my friend. He is at least a match for Vernet."

"Then I think it would not be a difficult matter to identify him."

"Don't waste your time," interrupts Mr. Follingsbee quickly; "I have told you all that I am at liberty to tell."