Irving Bacheller

“ J. Reginald Travers.'”
The attorney dropped his cigaret, gasped and staggered a little so that Riddles caught his elbow to steady him.
“In Heaven's name! What am I to do?” the lawyer muttered in a thick, tremulous whisper. “He is a brother-in-law of the boss, and a cousin by marriage of the county judge and the sheriff. What am I to do?”
“Nothing—just nothing, but look wise and cheerful.”
“That is what I will do.”
“After all he may be innocent,” said Riddles. “He acts and talks like the real thing. A counterfeit man would be sure to slip a cog now and then. He doesn't. ”

“ J. Reginald Travers will be given in the club parlors at 7:30; dinner at 8:15.” That legend was a footnote on the cards of invitation. When Riddles and his friends arrived at the Country Club the reception had begun. Office and corridors were crowded with the best people of that ample and fashionable countryside. Diamonds, pearls and emeralds glowed in the brilliant light on shapely necks and bosoms. Slowly, the Belleharbor men made their way into the crowded parlors. ”

“ I can not allow you to be turned into an island entirely surrounded by Waters. Unless you enjoy being lost, you are likely to be rescued. Perhaps, next time. I'll show up with the right man.”
“I have no confidence in your judgment,” she answered.
At that moment Percy arrived and was dumb with embarrassment, when Miss Harriet introduced Riddles as the late Reuben Smith.
TO HIS relief, Mrs. Martin came and announced that they were going in to dinner. As the ladies were entering the house with Percival Waters the prosecuting attorney came out. ”