sked Mr. Magee.

"I don't know--a tall black figure--hiding outside a window like myself.
The man with one of the other keys, I suppose. The man Mr. Bland heard
walking about to-night. I saw him and I was terribly frightened. It's
all right when you know who the other fellow is, but when--it's all so
creepy--I was afraid. So I ran--here."

"The thing to do," approved Mr. Magee. "Don't worry. I'll get the money
for you. I'll get it if I have to slay the city administration of Reuton
in its tracks."

"You trust me?" asked the girl, with a little catch in her voice. The
snow lay white on her hair; even in the shadows her eyes suggested June
skies. "Without knowing who I am, or why I must have this money--you'll
get it for me?"

"Some people," said Mr. Magee, "meet all their lives long at pink little
teas, and never know one another, while others just smile at each other
across a station waiting-room--that's enough."

"I'm so glad," whispered the girl. "I never dreamed I'd meet any one
like you--up here. Please, oh, please, be very careful. Neither Cargan
nor Max is armed. Bland is. I should never forgive myself if you were
hurt. But you won't be--will you?"

"I may catch cold," laughed Mr. Magee; "otherwise I'll be perfectly
safe." He went into the room and put on a gay plaid cap. "Makes me look
like Sherlock Holmes," he smiled at the girl framed in the window. When
he turned to his door to lock it, he discovered that the key was gone
and that it had been locked on the outside. "Oh, very well," he said
flippantly. He buttoned his coat to the chin, blew out the candles in
number seven, and joined the girl on the balcony.

"Go to your room," he said gently. "Your worries are over. I'll bring
you the golden fleece inside an hour."

"Be careful," she whispered, "Be very careful, Mr.--Billy."

"Just for that," cried Magee gaily, "I'll get you _four_ hundred
thousand dollars."

He ran to the end of the balcony, and dropping softly to the ground, was
ready for his first experiment in the gentle art of highway robbery.

CHAPTER IX

MELODRAMA IN THE SNOW

The justly celebrated moon that in summer months shed so much glamour on
the romances of Baldpate Inn was no where in evidence as Mr. Magee crept
along the ground close to the veranda. The snow sifted down upon him out
of the blackness above; three feet ahead the world seemed to end.

"A corking night," he muttered humorously, "for my debut in the hold-up