w and why, do you not?" Daney
demanded.

"Of course I do. She left to plaze The Laird an' get rid o' the young
fella. Whether Th' Laird paid her to go or not, I don't know, but I'll
say this: 'If he gave her anythin' at all, 'twas damned little.'"

"He didn't give her a red cent," Daney protested.

"I believe you, sor," Mr. O'Leary assured him, as solemn as a Supreme
Court justice. "I judged so be the way she traveled an' the hotel she
shtopped at."

Daney made another dive at the returned prodigal, but Mr. O'Leary
evaded him.

"Where did she travel, and what hotel did she put up at?" the general
manager demanded.

"She traveled to the same places an' put up at the same hotels that I
did," Dirty Dan replied evasively, for his natural love for intrigue
bade him hoard his secret to the last.

Daney sat down and said very quietly: "Dan, do you know where Nan
Brent may be found?"

"Where she _may_ be found? Faith, I can tell you where she can be
found--but I'll not."

"Why not?"

"Because 'tis her secret, an' why should I share it wit' you, m'anin'
no disrespect, sor, at that?"

"Your sentiments do you honor, Dan--a heap more honor than I ever
thought you possessed. If Mr. Donald's life should happen to be the
price of your silence, however, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"I would. The young gintlemin's blood runs in my veins, sor."

"Thank you, Dan. Give me her address."

"Number one eighty-five Madison Avenue, Noo Yorrk City," Dirty Dan
replied promptly. "More I do not know. Am I on the pay-roll agin?"

"You bet! I'll pick out a good job for you as soon as I find time to
think about it."

"Could I have a dollar or two in advance--" the wanderer began, as
Daney hastened toward the door.

"Certainly." The door slammed, and Dirty Dan could hear the general
manager shouting in the general office. "Dirty Dan is back. Give him
some money."

Mr. O'Leary sighed contentedly.

"Oh-ho, 'tis the great life we live," he murmured, and hastened
outside to present himself at the cashier's window, while Andrew Daney
continued on to the Tyee Lumber Company's hospital, tiptoed down the
corridor to the room where the young Laird of Port Agnew lay dying,
and rapped lightly on the door. A nurse came out and closed the door
after her.

"Well?" Daney demanded.

"No change. His temperature fell two degrees during the night and he
slept a little, but the fever is up again this morning, and he's
raving again. Any news