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received its first jar. Mr. Endicott had ordered no saucer of ashes. Moreover, no note, no telegram, not even a telephone call had come for him.

"For a moment, I was absolutely hopeless. Then I sent you from the room, Nora, so that Jenkins would not feel constrained to silence—and put the question which solved the problem.

"It was not Jenkins, however, who gave me my answer. It was Miss Van Sutton's maid. The tray of ashes had not been ordered by the groom. It had been ordered—by the bride.

"I may as well add here that Miss Van Sutton explained to me later that this had been the method of communication between her and Reginald Winters. She had suggested it herself in her college days when Ovid was almost her daily companion. It was Winters' custom to scribble his initial on the corner of the paper. This was her clue, of course, that the apparently blank sheet contained a communication."

Madelyn stooped over the shaggy form of Peter the Great, and his tongue caressed her hand.

"It was at this juncture that Miss Van Sutton was ushered into the library. I did not ask her for the note. I was well enough acquainted with my sex to know that this would be useless. I told her what was in it—and requested her to tell me if I was wrong."