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“But I still can’t believe that a gentleman could be so—so unspeakable,” gasped Aunt Jo. “And what will Fifi say?”

“Nothing,” answered Van Tyne cheerfully. “You see, Fifi knew about it all along. She even recognized me in the tree that first day. She begged me to—to desist until this afternoon; but I refused until she had kissed me tenderly, beard and all.”

Aunt Cal stopped suddenly.

“This is all very well, young man,” she said sternly; “but since you have so many sides to you, how do we know that in one of your off moments you aren’t the murderer who’s hiding on the Point?”

“The murderer?” asked Van Tyne blankly. “What murderer?”

“Ah, I can explain that, Miss Marsden.” Doctor Gallup smiled apologetically. “As a matter of fact, there wasn’t any murderer.”

“No murderer?” Aunt Cal looked at him sharply.

“No, I invented the bank robbery and the escaped murderer and all. I was merely applying a form of strong medicine to your niece.”

Aunt Cal looked at him scornfully and turned to her sister. “All your modern ideas are not so successful as mah-jongg,” she remarked significantly.