nt us word."

He plucked my sleeve; he started toward the stairs. He turned his back
on the Gardens of Versailles and the vagrant who kneeled beside the cot
in the foreground, with his face buried in the red blankets.

It was the hoarse call of this ghost of a man that stopped us.

"Estabrook!" he said.

"Yes."

"We may never meet again."

The younger man went back and without speaking, clasped the other's
hand.

"You will tell one person--just one--about me?" asked Cranch.

"Julianna!" Estabrook exclaimed with horror.

The other shook his head patiently from side to side.

"I meant Margaret Murchie," he whispered.

Then, feeling the wistful gaze of his worn and watery eyes upon our
backs, we left the Mohave Scenic Studio forever. A run across town in my
car brought us again to my door. My scrawny busybody of a maid opened it
before I had opportunity to even draw forth my key.

"Four or five telephone calls," she said with her impudent importance,
"but only one is pressing."

"One?" cried I, "who from?"

"Somebody I don't know, Doctor. Margaret Somebody. She left a message.
She wouldn't say no more than just one word."

"What was that word?" cried Estabrook at my shoulder.

"Danger."

I suppose that both of us felt the shock and then the tingle of
excitement in the meaning of that phrase, interpreted in the light of
our understanding.

"Doctor!" the young man shouted.

"Yes, Estabrook," said I; "keep your nerve. I think I have the key to
this problem in my possession. I have not yet explained. I did not want
to do so unless it was necessary. But if I am right you must not weaken.
You must be ready to throw your whole strength into loyalty and
affection for your wife and courage to protect her at any cost!"

"I'm ready!" he cried. "I feel that I must win her all over again. She
is as fresh and new and beautiful to me as the day I first saw her. And
I love her now as never before!"

"Jump into the car, then!" I commanded, and turning to my chauffeur,
whispered, "To the Marburys'. Where we were this morning. And
what--we--want--is--speed!"

He nodded, but I have no doubt that Estabrook and I both cursed him for
his caution as he slowed down at the crossings, and finally, when, to
conform to the traffic regulation, he circled in front of the banker's
house.

This time neither of us looked up at either residence, but ran forward
toward the Estabrooks' door. I pressed the bell centred in the Chi