They quickly switched the bicycle from the street to the sidewalk, and both dismounted.

They were checked at the entrance to the theatre by the appearance of Appleton. He was coming from within the building, and with him were two women, one elderly and unattractive, the other a plump young person with bright blue eyes in a saucy face that had more claim to piquant effrontery than to beauty. She was simply dressed and was all smiles to Appleton.

Amy and Haslam quickly turned their backs, thus avoiding recognition, and while they seemed to be looking through the gla.s.s front into the vestibule, they overheard the following conversation between the blue-eyed girl and Appleton.

"I'm glad you found us at last, Tom. Three acts of grand opera are about enough for me, thanks, and we'd have left sooner if your telegram that you'd be in town to-night hadn't made me expect to see you."

"Well, I've been hunting for you in every open theatre in town where there's grand opera. In your answer to my telegram from the Catskills, you said merely you were going to the opera this evening. You didn't say what opera, but I supposed it was this one, so I bought a ticket as soon as I arrived in town at the down-town office. I got here after the first act, and spent all the second act looking around for you."

"It's strange you didn't see us. We were in the middle of row K, right."

"Well, I missed you, that's all, and I kept a watch on the lobby after the act, thinking you'd perhaps come out between the acts. Then I went to the Park Theatre, and then to the Girard Avenue."

Amy and Haslam went into the vestibule. Amy was crimson with anger.

Haslam quietly said:

"Do you wish to continue the pursuit?"

Before she found time to answer, another matter distracted her attention.

"Look! There's Mary, the housemaid, who was to stay up for me till I got home. She has come here for me."

The servant stood by the door leading into the lobby, in a position enabling her to scan the faces of people coming out from the auditorium.

"Oh, Miss Amy, are you here? I was waiting for you to come out. Here's a telegram that came about a half-hour ago. I thought it might be important."

Amy tore open the envelope.

"Why," she said to Haslam, "this was sent to-day from Philadelphia to me at the Catskills, and my cousins have had it repeated back to me. And look--it's signed by you."

"I surely didn't send it."

But there was the name beyond doubt, "Henry Haslam, M.D."

"This is a mystery to me, I a.s.sure you," reiterated the doctor.

"But not to me," cried Amy. "Read the message and you'll understand."

He read these words:

"Mr. Appleton is very ill. His life depends upon his will-power. He tells me that you alone can say the word that will save him. Henry Haslam, M.D."

Haslam smiled.

"A clever invention to make you think he tried to execute his threat.

Now you know what he was doing while you were taking your handbag home.

He probably concocted the scheme on his journey. But why did he sign my name, I wonder?"

She dropped her eyes and answered in a low tone:

"Because he knew that I would believe anything said by you."

"Would you believe that I love you still more than I did three years ago?"

"Yes; if it came from your own lips--not by telegraph."

She lifted her eyes now, and her lips, too; Mary the housemaid sensibly looked another way.

THE END.