Fortunately for Wickersham, she was so much engrossed in her recital that she did not observe her companion’s face until he had recovered himself.  He had fallen a little behind her and did not interrupt her until he had quite mastered himself.  Then he asked quietly: 

“Where did you get that story?”

“Mr. Keith told me.”

“And he said the man who did that was a ’gentleman’?”

“No, he did not say that; he did not give me the least idea who it was.  Do you know who it was?”

The question was so unexpected that Wickersham for a moment was confounded.  Then he saw that she was quite innocent.  He almost gasped.

“I?  How could I?  I have heard that story—­that is, something of it.  It is not as Mr. Keith related it.  He has some of the facts wrong.  I will tell you the true story if you will promise not to say anything about it.”

Lois promised.

“Well, the truth is that the poor creature was crazy; she took it into her head that she was married to some one, and ran away from home to try and find him.  At one time she said it was a Mr. Wagram; then it was a man named Plume, a drunken sot; then I think she for a time fancied it was Mr. Keith himself; and”—­he glanced at her quickly—­“I am not sure she did not claim me once.  I knew her slightly.  Poor thing! she was quite insane.”

“Poor thing!” sighed Lois, softly.  She felt more kindly toward Wickersham than she had ever done before.

“I shall do what I can to help you find her,” he added.

“Thank you.  I hope you may be successful.”

“I hope so,” said Wickersham, sincerely.

That evening Wickersham called on Mr. Rimmon, and the two were together for some time.  The meeting was not wholly an amicable one.  Wickersham demanded something that Mr. Rimmon was unwilling to comply with, though the former made him an offer at which his eyes glistened.  He had offered to carry his stock for him as long as he wanted it carried.  Mr. Rimmon showed him his register to satisfy him that no entry had been made there of the ceremony he had performed that night a few years before; but he was unwilling to write him a certificate that he had not performed such a ceremony.  He was not willing to write a falsehood.

Wickersham grew angry.

“Now look here, Rimmon,” he said, “you know perfectly well that I never meant to marry that—­to marry any one.  You know that I was drunk that night, and did not know what I was doing, and that what I did was out of kindness of heart to quiet the poor little fool.”

“But you married her in the presence of a witness,” said Mr. Rimmon, slowly.  “And I gave him her certificate.”

“You must have been mistaken.  I have the affidavit of the man that he signed nothing of the kind.  I give you my word of honor as to that.  Write me the letter I want.”  He pushed the decanter on the table nearer to Rimmon, who poured out a drink and took it slowly.  It appeared to give him courage, for after a moment he shook his head.