“I said you were a stranger in town, and as I was your only acquaintance, I felt that I should show you the courtesy of taking you to a hotel, and assisting to get you off on the night train; and I asked her to excuse me, as that would give her an even number.  But it seems she had invited some one especially to meet me, and was greatly distressed not to have her full quota of guests, so she sent you a most cordial invitation to come to her at once, promising to take dinner with you some time if you would help her out now.  Somehow, she gathered from my talk that you were travelling, had just returned from abroad, and were temporarily separated from your friends.  She is also sure that you are musical, and means to ask you to help her out in that way this evening.  I told her I was not sure whether you could be persuaded or not, and she mercifully refrained from asking whether you sang or played.  I tell you all this so that you will be prepared for anything.  Of course I didn’t tell her all these things.  I merely kept still when she inferred them.  Your name, by the way, is Miss Remington—­Mary Remington.  She was greatly elated for a moment when she thought you might be Carolyn Remington—­whoever she may be.  I suppose she will speak of it.  The name was the first one that my eye lit upon in the telephone-book.  If you object to bearing it for the evening, it is easy to see how a name could be misunderstood over the ’phone.  But perhaps you would better give me a few pointers, for I’ve never tried acting a part, and can’t be sure how well I shall do it.”

The girl had been silent from astonishment while the man talked.

“But I cannot possibly go there to dinner,” she gasped, her hand going to her throat again, as if to pluck away the delicate lace about it and give more room, for breathing.  “I must get away somewhere at once.  I cannot trouble you in this way.  I have already imposed upon your kindness.  With this hat and coat and gloves, I shall be able to manage quite well, and I thank you so much!  I will return them to you as soon as possible.”

The cab began to go slowly, and Tryon Dunham noticed that another carriage, just ahead of theirs, was stopping before Mrs. Bowman’s house.  There was no time for halting decision.

“My friend,” he said earnestly, “I cannot leave you alone, and I do not see a better way than for you to go in here with me for a little while, till I am free to go with you.  No one can follow you here, or suspect that you had gone out to dinner at a stranger’s house.  Believe me, it is the very safest thing you could do.  This is the house.  Will you go in with me?  If not, I must tell the driver to take us somewhere else.”

“But what will she think of me,” she said in trepidation, “and how can I do such a thing as to steal into a woman’s house to a dinner in this way!  Besides, I am not dressed for a formal occasion.”

The carriage had stopped before the door now, and the driver was getting down from his seat.