There had been a distinct coolness between Tryon Dunham and his mother and sister ever since the morning when the loss of the hat and rain-coat was announced.  Or did it date from the evening of that day when both mother and sister had noticed the beautiful ring which he wore?  They had exclaimed over the flash of the diamond, and its peculiar pureness and brilliancy, and Cornelia had been quite disagreeable when he refused to take it off for her to examine.  He had replied to his mother’s question by saying that the ring belonged to a friend of his.  He knew his mother was hurt by the answer, but what more could he do at present?  True, he might have taken the ring off and prevented further comment, but it had come to him to mean loyalty to and belief in the girl whom he had so strangely been permitted to help.  It was therefore in deep perplexity that he betook himself to his club and sat down in a far corner to meditate.  He was annoyed when the office-boy appeared to tell him, there were some packages awaiting him in the office.  “Bring them to me here, Henry.”

The boy hustled away, and soon came back, bearing two hat-boxes—­one of them in a crate—­and the heavy leather suit-case.

With a start of surprise, Dunham sat up in his comfortable chair.

“Say, Henry, those things ought not to come in here.”  He glanced anxiously about, and was relieved to find that there was only one old gentleman in the room, and that he was asleep.  “Suppose we go up to a private room with them.  Take them out to the elevator, and I’ll come in a moment.”

“All right, sah.”

“And say, Henry, suppose you remove that crate from the box.  Then it won’t be so heavy to carry.”

“All right, sah.  I’ll be thah in jest a minute.”

The young man hurried out to the elevator, and he and Henry made a quick ascent to a private room.  He gave the boy a round fee, and was left in quiet to examine his property.

As he fumbled with the strings of the first box his heart beat wildly, and he felt the blood mounting to his face.  Was he about to solve the mystery which had surrounded the girl in whom his interest had now grown so deep that he could scarcely get her out of his mind for a few minutes at a time?

But the box was empty, save for some crumpled white tissue-paper.  He took up the cover in perplexity and saw his own name written by himself.  Then he remembered.  This was the box he had sent down to the club by the cabman, to get it out of his way.  He felt disappointed, and turned quickly to the other box and cut the cord.  This time he was rewarded by seeing the great black hat, beautiful and unhurt in spite of its journey to Chicago.  The day was saved, and also the reputation of his mother’s maid.  But was there no word from the beautiful stranger?  He searched hurriedly through the wrappings, pulled out the hat quite unceremoniously, and turned the box upside down, but nothing else could he find.  Then he went at the suit-case.  Yes, there was the rain-coat.  He took it out triumphantly, for now his mother could say nothing, and, moreover, was not his trust in the fair stranger justified?  He had done well to believe in her.  He began to take out the other garments, curious to see what had been there for her use.