“Certainly not,” responded the tricky stranger.  “If I were a thief you would be the last person I should attempt to practice upon.”

“I should say so,” grumbled the old gentleman.  “Young woman, you have let your imagination run away with you.  Be careful in the future or you may get yourself into serious trouble.  This gentleman has taken your nonsense very good-naturedly.”

As the two men were occupying the seat nearest the door, save for the old gentleman’s first bounce, the little scene had been so quietly enacted that the other passengers were paying little attention to the trio.

“You had better go back to your friends,” said the man whom Grace had accused, looking at her with cold hatred in his eyes.  “That is, unless you wish to make yourself ridiculous.”

Grace turned away without speaking.  There were tears of mortification in her eyes.  She had attempted to render a service and had been rudely rebuffed.  She slipped into her place beside Nora, who was dozing, and had not missed her.  Mrs. Gibson, too, had not marked her absence.

“Where were you, Grace?” said Miriam curiously.  “I opened my eyes and you were gone.  What’s the matter?  You look ready to cry.”

“I am,” replied Grace.  “I could cry with sheer vexation.”  Then she briefly recounted what had occurred.

“What a crusty old man,” sympathized Miriam.  “It would serve him right if he did lose his old watch.  Where are they sitting?”

“Down the aisle on the other side at the end,” directed Grace.

Miriam turned around in her seat.  “He looks capable of most anything,” she remarked after a prolonged stare at the stranger, who was apparently absorbed in his paper.  “Are you sure, however, that you were not mistaken, Grace?  You can’t always judge a man by his looks.”

“You can this man,” asserted Grace.  “He is a polite villain of the deepest dye, and I know it.”

It was after eleven o’clock when the train pulled into Oakdale.  Mrs. Gibson’s chauffeur awaited them with the big touring car, in which there was ample room for all of them.

“Keep a sharp lookout for that man,” whispered Grace to Miriam.  “I want to see if Oakdale is his destination.”

The two girls lagged behind the others, eagerly scanning the platform.

“I think he must have gone on,” said Miriam.  “I don’t see him.  Don’t worry any more about him, Grace.”

Then she walked on ahead.

But Grace lingered.  “That looks like him now,” she thought.  “He is just leaving the train.  He seems to be waiting for some one.”

She stood in the shadow of the station watching the man.  Then she saw another man rapidly approaching.  The newcomer walked straight up to the stranger and shook hands with him.  Then the two men turned and she obtained a full-face view of them both.

Grace gave a little gasp of surprise, for the newcomer who had shaken the hand of the crook was Henry Hammond.