had expected Mr. Billings to cringe and cower she was mistaken. He continued to dress, quite in his usual manner, as if he had a clear conscience.
“Indeed I did, Mary,” he said. “It was three when I entered the house, for the clock was just striking.”
“Something must have delayed you,” suggested Mrs. Billings.
“Otherwise, dear,” said Mr. Billings, “I should have been home much sooner.
“Probably,” said Mrs. Billings, suddenly assuming her most sarcastic tone, as she reached into her bureau drawer and drew out the patent nursing-bottle, “this had something to do with your being delayed!”
Mr. Billings looked at the nursing-bottle, and then he drew out his watch and looked at that.
“My dear,” he said, “you are right. It did. But I now have just time to gulp down my coffee and catch my train. To-night, when I return from town, I will tell you the most remarkable story of that nursing-bottle, and how it happened to be in my pocket, and in the mean time I beg you—I most sincerely beg you—to feel no uneasiness.”
With this he hurried out of the room, and a few moments later his wife saw him running for his train.
All day Mrs. Billings was prey to the most disturbing thoughts, and as soon as dinner was finished that evening she led the way into the library.
“Now, Rollin?” she said, and without hesitation Mr. Billings began.
I. THE PATENT NURSING-BOTTLE
You have (he said), I know, met Lemuel, the coloured elevator boy in our office building, and you know what a pleasant, accommodating lad he is. He is the sort of boy for whom one would gladly do a favour, for he is always so willing to do favours for others, but I was thinking nothing of this when I stepped from my office at exactly five o'clock yesterday evening. I was thinking of nothing but getting home to dinner as soon as possible, and was just stepping into the elevator when Lemuel laid his hand gently on my arm.
“I beg yo' pahdon, Mistah Billings,” he said politely, “but would
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