justice."

"I find that remark, under the circumstances, impertinent," Philippa
told him coldly.

He shrugged his shoulders. There was a slight smile upon his lips
and his eyes twinkled.

"Alas!" he murmured, "for the moment I forgot the somewhat unusual
circumstances of our meeting. Permit me to offer you what I trust
you will accept as the equivalent of a letter of introduction."

"A letter of introduction," Philippa repeated, glancing at his
disordered clothes, "and you come in through the window!"

"Believe me," the intruder assured her, "it was the only way."

"Perhaps you will tell me, then," Philippa demanded, her anger
gradually giving way to bewilderment, "what is wrong with my front
door?"

"For all I know, dear lady," the newcomer confessed, "yours may be
an excellent front door. I would ask you, however, to consider my
appearance I have been obliged to conclude the last few miles of
my journey in somewhat ignominious fashion. My clothes--they were
quite nice clothes, too, when I started," he added, looking down at
himself ruefully--"have suffered. And, as you perceive, I have
lost my hat."

"Your hat?" Helen exclaimed, with a sudden glance at Nora's trophy.