The case against “Officer Dutchy” would be an interesting one, as his previous career was—­according to the reporter—­full of “good stories.”  Mr. Hilliard was hoping, however, that it might be hurried on and off, taking up as little time as possible, as he had use for every moment other than hanging about a court-room giving evidence.  Born in New York, he had gone West while a boy, and had never since been in the East till a day or two ago, when he had arrived from the neighbourhood of Bakersfield, California, with the avowed intention of enjoying himself.  Naturally he did not want to have his enjoyment curtailed by business.

Angela felt guilty.  It was her fault that the poor young man’s holiday was spoiled.  She ought not to have let him take her burdens on his shoulders; but it was too late to repent now.  She could not come forward and tell the real story, for that would do him harm, since it would differ from his version.  She could atone only by showing her gratitude in some way.  Because he came from California, she longed to show how friendly and kind she could be to a man of her father’s country—­a man worthy of that country and its traditions she began to think.

She lunched in a quiet corner of the restaurant; but Mr. Nickson Hilliard of California did not show himself, and at last Angela went up to her own rooms disappointed.  Hardly had she closed the door, however, when a knock sent her flying to open it again.  A bellboy had brought a note, and she sprang to the conclusion that it must be from Mr. Hilliard.  He had found out her name, and had written to tell what had happened behind the closed door—­the loose end of the story which the newspapers had not got, never would get, from any one concerned.  But the bright pink of excitement and interest which had sprung to her face died away, as she opened the envelope and glanced down the first page of the letter, which was headed, “Doctor Beal’s Nursing Home.”  She read: 

   Madam: 

I am requested by Mr. Henry Morehouse of San Francisco to express his regret at not being able to meet your ship and offer his services as he hoped to do, at the request of his elder brother, Mr. James Morehouse, of the Fidelity Trust Bank, San Francisco.  Mr. H. Morehouse was coming East on law business, when his brother suggested that he make himself useful to you, and he was looking forward to doing so, having known the late Mr. Franklin Merriam.  On starting, however, Mr. Morehouse was far from well, and found himself so much worse on reaching New York, that he was obliged to consult a doctor.  The result was an immediate operation of appendicitis.  This was performed successfully yesterday and Mr. Morehouse feels strong enough to express (through me) his regret, wishing to explain why he failed, in case his brother may have let you know that he intended to meet you.

   Yours faithfully,

   N. Millar

   (Nurse in Doctor Beal’s Private Hospital).