author of The Sybarites to be a defaulter?" said Miss Thorn.

"It is indeed hard to believe Mr. Allen a criminal," Mr. Trevor broke in
for the first time. "I think it only right that he should be allowed to
clear himself before he is put to further inconvenience, and perhaps
injustice, by any action we may take in the matter."

Mr. Cooke sniffed suspiciously at the word "action."

"What action do you mean?" he demanded.

"Well," replied Mr. Trevor, with some hesitation, "before we take any
steps, that is, notify the police."

"Notify the police!" cried my client, his face red with a generous anger.
"I have never yet turned a guest over to the police," he said proudly,
"and won't, not if I know it. I'm not that kind."

Who shall criticise Mr. Cooke's code of morality?

"Fenelon," said his wife, "you must remember you have never yet
entertained a guest of a larcenous character. No embezzlers up to the
present. Marian," she continued, turning to Miss Thorn, "you spoke as
if you might, be able to throw some light upon this matter. Do you know
whether this gentleman is Charles Wrexell Allen, or whether he is the
author? In short, do you know who he is?"

The Celebrity lighted a cigarette. Miss Thorn said indignantly,
"Upon my word, Aunt Maria, I thought that you, at least, would know
better than to credit this silly accusation. He has been a guest at your