The Miser was evidently surprised, but responded courteously, and recalling the accident of two weeks ago, asked if the Candy Man had heard anything of the injured chauffeur.

It chanced that he had heard the Reporter say, only yesterday, that the man was doing well and likely to recover.

“And the young lady?  I think I saw her the other day going into a house across the street from my own.”

“The house with the Little Red Chimney?” asked the Candy Man indiscreetly, forgetting himself for the moment.

A smile slowly dawned on the face of the sad man, but quickly faded, as a flock of naughty pigeons tore by, screaming, “Lizer, Lizer, look out for the Miser!” If he had been about to make a comment, he thought better of it, and turned away.

Having identified the Little Red Chimney as the property of the Girl of All Others, the Candy Man now made a new discovery.  He had a room in one of the old residences of the neighbourhood, so many of which in these days were being given over to boarding and lodging.  Its windows overlooked a back yard, in which grew a great ash, and he had been interested to observe how long after other trees were bare this one kept its foliage.  He found it one morning, however, giving up its leaves by the wholesale, under the touch of a sharp frost; and, wonder of wonders! through its bared branches that magical chimney came into view, with a corner of grey roof.

Not far away rose the big smoke stack belonging to the apartment houses, impressive in its loftiness, but to his fancy the Little Red Chimney held its own with dignity, standing for something unattainable by great smoke stacks, however important.

The Candy Man, it will be seen, did not attempt to reconcile conflicting evidence.  He took what suited him and ignored the rest.  Was Miss Bentley the niece of Mrs. Gerrard Pennington?  She was also the niece of Uncle Bob.  Did she ride in haughty limousines?  She also rode in street cars.  Was she wined and dined by the rich?  She also ate muffins and cherry preserves, and brushed up the hearth of the Little Red Chimney.

CHAPTER FIVE

In which the double life led by the heroine is explained, and Augustus McAllister proves an alibi.

“Yes,” said Miss Bentley, “I liked him.  He turned out to be altogether different from my first impressions.  That afternoon at the Country Club he seemed rather stiff—­nice, assured manners, of course, but unresponsive.  But then the way in which we bounced in upon each other was enough to break any amount of ice.”  She laughed at the recollection, clasping her hands behind her head.

Instead of the little grey hat jammed down anyhow, she wore this morning the most bewitching and frivolous of boudoir caps upon her bright head, and a shimmery, lacy empire something, that clung caressingly about her, and fell back becomingly from her round white arms.  Miles and miles away from the Candy Wagon was Margaret Elizabeth, who had so recently hobnobbed down the avenue with Uncle Bob.