"Fortune favours the brave," he quoted to himself, as he tiptoed into
the kitchen, cautiously closing the door. A subtle perfume filled the
room and he sniffed appreciatively. An open bottle of vanilla extract
stood on the kitchen table, where a pan of fudges was cooling, marked
off into neat squares. He wrapped the pan in a newspaper, anointed his
handkerchief liberally with the fragrant extract, and softly stole out
into the night.

The dogs followed him to the back fence, but did not bark. Only a few
soft whines followed him as he sped down the road, thrilled with a sense
of adventure and romance. If Juliet should happen to wake, she would
think he had gone away because he was angry, and never need know that
like some misunderstood knight of old, he was merely upon an errand of
chivalry for her. The fudges would do as well as the calla lilies,
probably, though he felt instinctively that they were not quite as
elegant.

It was a long way to Madame Bernard's, and Juliet's knight-errant was
weary, after an exhausting day in town. He paused outside the gate long
enough to clean the dust from his shoes with the most soiled of his two
handkerchiefs, then went boldly up the steps and rang the bell.

He was embarrassed to find Colonel Kent and Allison there, though the
younger man's tact speedily set him at ease again, and enabled him to
offer Isabel the pan of fudges with unwonted grace of manner. Then he
went over to Madame Bernard.

"Juliet couldn't come to-night," he said, "but here's our card."

Madame could not repress a smile as she read "The Crosby Twins" engraved