welcome intruder.

"Good Gawd!" gasped Odell-Carney. "Wot's all this?" His wife suddenly
began fanning herself, searching for breath.

"_This_ is my husband!" cried Edith, triumph in her voice, tears in her
eyes, as she faced the astonished observers. "Now, what have you to
say?"

It was a perfectly natural but not an especially obvious question. The
little manager threw up his hands and cried out in a sad mixture of
French, English and Helvetian,--

"What? Another husband? Madam, how many more do you propose to inflict
us with? We cannot allow it! The management will not permit you to
change husbands the instant a new guest arrives in the house. It is not
to be heard of--no, no!"

"Are you afraid that the books won't balance?" asked Brock with a joyous
grin, a great load off his heart. "Ladies and gentlemen, permit me to
introduce Mr. Roxbury Medcroft, my friend and fellow conspirator. He is
the husband of this lady, not I. I am to be the husband of _this_ lady,
thank God."

There was a moment of absolute silence--it may have been stupor. The two
audiences faced each other with emotions widely at variance. It was Mrs.
Rodney who spoke first.

"Is this true, Edith?" she quavered.