erent to Deering's snort of disgust, Hood was already whirling the
slipper in the air.

"Slightly northeast! There you are, Deering--the clear pointing of Fate!
The girl wasn't going far or she wouldn't have been in the local ticket
line, and even a lady in haste packs more stuff for a long journey. We'll
run up to the Barton Arms--an excellent inn, and establish headquarters.
The girl who danced off with your two hundred thousand is probably around
there somewhere, bringing up her tennis for the first tournaments of the
season. Let's be moving; a breath of air will do you good."

"That's all you can do about it, is it?" demanded Deering. "Let me tell
my whole story--put myself in your power, and now the best you can do is
to flip a slipper to see which way to start!"

"Just as good a way as any," remarked Hood amiably.

He pressed the button, ordered his car, and then led the way back to
Deering's room.

"Throw some things into a bag. You'll soon forget your sordid money
affairs and begin to live, and you'd better be prepared for anything that
turns up. I'll fold the coats; some old fishing-togs for rough work and
jails, and even your dress suit may come in handy."

He fell to work, folding the suits neatly, while Deering moved about like
a man in a trance, assembling linen and toilet articles.

"Something tells me we're going to have a pretty good time," continued
Hood musingly. "I'll show you untold kingdoms, things that never were on
sea or land. We shall meet people worn with the world-old struggle for
things they don't need, and who are out in the tender May air looking for
happiness--the only business, my dear boy, that's really worth while. And
you'll be surprised, son, to find how many such people there are."

"Ah, you're ready, Cassowary!" remarked Hood as they stepped out of the
side door where a big touring-car was drawn up in the driveway. "Just a
moment till I get my stick."

Briggs had placed their bags in the car, and Deering had a moment in
which to observe the chauffeur, who stood erect and touched his cap.
Hood's protege proved to be a tall, dark, well-knit young fellow
dressed in a well-fitting chauffeur's costume.

"It's a good night for a run," Deering suggested, eying the man in the
light from the door.

"Fine, sir."

"I hope the people in the house took good care of you."

"Very good, sir."

There was nothing in Cassowary's voice or manner to indicate that he was
the possessor of