ith picked up her skirts and
scuttled after him.

"How dare you run away like that?" she called. "You promised me--" The
door closed behind her.

I went over and spoke through the panels.

"'Follow her, she flies; fly from her, she follows'--oh, wife and
mother!" I called.

"For Heaven's sake, Edith," Fred's voice rose irritably. "If you and
Jack are going to talk all evening, go and sit on _his_ knee and let me
alone. The way you two flirt under my nose is a scandal. Do you hear
that, Jack?"

"Good night, Edith," I called, "I have left you a kiss on the upper left
hand panel of the door. And I want to ask you one more question: what if
I fly from the woman and she doesn't follow?"

"Thank your lucky stars," Fred called in a muffled voice, and I left
them to themselves.

I had some work to do at the office, work that the interview with Hunter
had interrupted, and half past eight that night found me at my desk. But
my mind strayed from the papers before me. After a useless effort to
concentrate, I gave it up as useless, and by ten o'clock I was on the
street again, my evening wasted, the papers in the libel case of the
_Star_ against the _Eagle_ untouched on my desk, and I the victim of an
uneasy apprehension that took me, almost without volition, to the
neighborhood of the Fleming house on Monmouth Avenue. For it had
occurred to me that Miss Fleming might not have left the house that day
as she had promised, might still be there, liable to another intrusion
by the mysterious individual who had a key to the house.

It was a relief, consequently, when I reached its corner, to find no
lights in the building. The girl had kept her word. Assured of that, I
looked at the house curiously. It was one of the largest in the city,
not wide, but running far back along the side street; a small yard with
a low iron fence and a garage, completed the property. The street lights
left the back of the house in shadow, and as I stopped in the shelter of
the garage, I was positive that I heard some one working with a rear
window of the empty house. A moment later the sounds ceased and muffled
footsteps came down the cement walk. The intruder made no attempt to
open the iron gate; against the light I saw him put a leg over the low
fence, follow it up with the other, and start up the street, still with
peculiar noiselessness of stride. He was a short, heavy-shouldered
fellow in a cap, and his silhouette showed a prodigious length of