disheveled maid standing in the doorway.

"Ow, I thought there was a gentleman with you, miss."

"He left a moment ago. Why?"

"There's a lady wants to see you. Miss Peters, her name is."

"Will you ask her to come up?"

The disheveled maid was no polished mistress of ceremonies. She
leaned down into the void and hailed Aline.

"She says will you come up?"

Aline's feet became audible on the staircase. There were
greetings.

"Whatever brings you here, Aline?"

"Am I interrupting you, Joan, dear?"

"No. Do come in! I was only surprised to see you so late. I
didn't know you paid calls at this hour. Is anything wrong? Come
in."

The door closed, the maid retired to the depths, and R. Jones
stole cautiously down again. He was feeling absolutely
bewildered. Apparently his deductions, his second thoughts, had
been all wrong, and Joan was, after all, the honest person he had