During the afternoon he took occasion to run into the Judge's office about
some unimportant detail of the business they were transacting, and as he
was leaving he said:

"By the way, Judge, who was your young woman who gave you such a fright by
her sudden disappearance? You never told me her name. Is she one of my
acquaintances, I wonder?"

"Oh, her name is Mary Weston," said the Judge, smiling. "I don't believe
you know her, for she was from California, and was visiting here only for
a few days. She sailed for Europe the next day."

That closed the incident, and, so far as the mystery was concerned, only
added perplexity to it.

Dunham purposely remained down-town, merely having a clerk telephone home
for him that he had gone out of the city and would not be home until late,
so they need not wait up. He did this because he did not wish to have his
mother or his sister ask him any more questions about the missing hat and
coat. Then he took a twenty-mile trolley ride into the suburbs and back,
to make good his word that he had gone out of town; and all the way he
kept turning over and over the mystery of the beautiful young woman, until
it began to seem to him that he had been crazy to let her drift out into
the world alone and practically penniless. The dress had told its tale. He
saw, of course, that if she were afraid of detection, she must have found
it necessary to buy other clothing, and how could she have bought it with
only nine dollars and seventy-five cents? He now felt convinced that he
should have found some way to cash a check and thus supply her with what
she needed. It was terrible. True, she had those other beautiful rings,