“Please do,” she pleaded, and stirred Tom’s brain to quicker action.
“Suppose we go straight to Madame Yvonett’s, spend a few minutes there; then if Marjorie hasn’t waited for you, we’ll go right to your house, and explain that we went down the streets Marjorie didn’t return on—and so missed her.”
“That sounds a trifle involved,” Janet knitted her brows in anxious thought. “However, I think it will do, and no one need ever know.”
“I’ll never tell,” promised Tom soothingly. “By Jove! it was clever of you to give Marjorie’s name to the J. P.; I’ll get back your bracelet tomorrow and no one will be the wiser.”
“You are such a comfort,” sighed Janet; impulsively Tom laid his right hand tenderly on hers. “I—I—always enjoy myself when with you.”
An hour after Tom and Janet’s departure another “speeder” was brought before Mr. Lenox, Justice of the Peace for Hyattsville. But the tall, well-groomed, middle-aged man who faced him, unlike Tom wasted no time in disputing the fine imposed.
“Can you change a twenty dollar bill?” he inquired, drawing out a well-filled wallet. “This is the first time I’ve motored down from Baltimore, and I’m sorry my chauffeur broke the speed laws. Hope of a Christmas dinner at home is my excuse.”
“Can’t blame you much,” acknowledged the Justice, his sternness thawed by the other’s geniality. “Let’s see if I have change,” opening his cash box, and dumping its contents on the desk. The stranger picked up Janet’s bracelet as it rolled toward him, and glanced idly at it; then his attention was arrested by the unusual design, and he examined it minutely, even to the tiny initials and date engraved on the inside. “Here’s your change, sir,” added the Justice.
“Thanks,” the stranger pocketed the money without counting it. “Pretty bracelet you have here,” handing it back to Lenox as he spoke. “Very unusual in appearance; would you mind telling me where you got it?”