“At nine o’clock to-morrow morning,” said Jimmy firmly, “I present myself at Mr. Pett’s office.  It’s all settled.”

Ann was silent.  She was endeavouring to adjust her mind to the idea.  Her first startled revulsion from it had begun to wane.  It was an idea peculiarly suited to her temperament, an idea that she might have suggested herself if she had thought of it.  Soon, from being disapproving, she found herself glowing with admiration for its author.  He was a young man of her own sort!

“You asked me on the boat, if you remember,” said Jimmy, “if I had an adventurous soul.  I am now submitting my proofs.  You also spoke highly of America as a land where there were adventures to be had.  I now see that you were right.”

Ann thought for a moment.

“If I consent to your doing this insane thing, Mr. Bayliss, will you promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Well, in the first place I absolutely refuse to let you risk all sorts of frightful things by coming into this kidnapping plot.”  She waved him down, and went on.  “But I see where you can help me very much.  As I told you at lunch, my aunt would do anything for Jimmy Crocker if he were to appear in New York now.  I want you to promise that you will confine your activities to asking her to let Jerry Mitchell come back.”

“Never!”

“You said you would promise me anything.”

“Anything but that.”

“Then it is all off!”

Jimmy pondered.

“It’s terribly tame that way.”

“Never mind.  It’s the only way I will consider.”

“Very well.  I protest, though.”

Ann sat down.

“I think you’re splendid, Mr. Bayliss.  I’m much obliged!”

“Not at all.”

“It will be such a splendid thing for Ogden, won’t it?”

“Admirable.”

“Now the only thing to do is just to see that we have got everything straight.  How about this, for instance?  They will ask you when you arrived in New York.  How are you going to account for your delay in coming to see them?”

“I’ve thought of that.  There’s a boat that docks to-morrow—­the Caronia, I think.  I’ve got a paper upstairs.  I’ll look it up.  I can say I came by her.”

“That seems all right.  It’s lucky you and uncle Peter never met on the Atlantic.”

“And now as to my demeanour on entering the home?  How should I behave?  Should I be jaunty or humble?  What would a long-lost nephew naturally do?”

“A long-lost nephew with a record like Jimmy Crocker’s would crawl in with a white flag, I should think.”

A bell clanged in the hall.

“Supper!” said Jimmy.  “To go into painful details, New England boiled dinner, or my senses deceive me, and prunes.”

“I must be going.”

“We shall meet at Philippi.”

He saw her to the door, and stood at the top of the steps watching her trim figure vanish into the dusk.  She passed from his sight.  Jimmy drew a deep breath, and, thinking hard, went down the passage to fortify himself with supper.