“Then you knew of it,” said Faith, her voice sounding faint and far away.

“I knew it, yes,” said Mr. Watkins.  “In fact, I was sent by Mr. Forbes to stop you, but you had gotten out of the building.”

“Is it possible?”

Faith was coming back to her senses now.

“Tell me all you know of the matter, Mr. Watkins,” she said, sternly, “and tell me the exact truth.  Don’t attempt to hide anything!”

Mr. Watkins controlled himself and told her the whole story—­how the superintendent had suspected her of stealing the money and sent to have her brought back at once and had been disappointed.

“An hour later,” he continued, “he got a telegram from his wife.  His son was dying and he had to go home.  Since then there had nothing been done about the robbery.”

Faith drew a long breath after the young man finished.

“So appearances are against me,” she said, with a sigh.  “I am at the mercy of a rascal like that detective, Hardy.”

Mr. Watkins said nothing, but he was as pale as death.  When he tried to comfort her the words nearly choked him.

Faith saw it and pitied him even while she wondered.  A few moments later she bade him a cordial “good-night.”  If there was any suspicion in her heart it did not show in her manner.

She was walking slowly home from the grocery, plunged in the most serious thought, when a well-dressed man of middle age appeared suddenly before her.

“I beg pardon, miss,” he said, raising his hat, “but I am a stranger in this neighborhood and am looking for a certain number.  If you live about here perhaps you will kindly direct me.”

“I will, with pleasure, sir.  What number do you wish?” asked Faith.

As she spoke she paused directly in the glare of a gas lamp.

As the light fell on her face the stranger stopped abruptly.

“By Jove!  What luck!” he cried, gayly.  “The very angel I was thinking of!”

“What do you mean, sir!” cried Faith, who was now thoroughly frightened.  “If you wish me to direct you, state the number that you seek at once!  I am not in the habit of being addressed by strangers!”

“My dear child, don’t get angry.  I shall not harm you,” said the man, politely, “but you surprised me out of myself.  I did not dream of meeting you.”

As Faith still stood staring at him he continued, speaking hurriedly, and his manner became so chivalrous that the young girl soon accused herself mentally of rudeness.

“You see, it is this way, miss.  I was thinking of the sweetest little girl in the whole big world, and when I saw your face you were so much like her that to save my soul I could not help that exclamation.  You will pardon me, I am sure, for I meant no harm whatever!  I am old enough to be your father, so you see you have no reason to fear me.”

“I spoke hastily,” said Faith, slowly.  “I had no wish to be rude, but you must admit that I had cause to feel a little startled.”