"One moment, please," she said. "This all can be satisfactorily
explained. No wrong has been done. It will all be cleared up in time.
We--"
"In time?" interrupted the manager. "Madam, _this_ is the time. You are
here with a man who is not your husband, yet who purports to be such."
"It may throw some light on the matter if I announce that the gentleman
in question is _my_ affianced husband." It was Miss Fowler who spoke.
Every one stared at her as she moved over to Brock's side.
"If you will look in the office, you will find a telegram there for me,"
went on Mrs. Medcroft, pale but absolutely confident. The manager called
out through the door. Absolute silence reigned while the reply was
awaited.
"No telegram for Mrs. Medcroft last night or to-day," announced the
manager sternly, as he glanced through the slim bunch of blue envelopes.
"There are four here for a Mr. Brock, who has not yet arrived in--"
"Brock!" shouted three voices in one.
A tall man, forgetting his English and his eyeglass, sprang forward and
grabbed the telegrams from the manager's hand. "Holy mackerel! Give 'em
here!" he shouted. Two eager, beautiful young women were hanging to his
elbows as he ruthlessly broke one of the seals. "The chump! It's from
Rox! They're all from Rox--and they are two or three days old!"
Just then the unexpected happened.
The office door opened with a bang, and the real Roxbury Medcroft
stepped into the room.
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