ung to: Mrs. Boyer had made the mischief, but she
had also offered the girl a home. She might be at the Boyers'. Peter,
flinging on a hat and without his overcoat, went to the Boyers'. Time
was valuable, and he had wasted an hour, two hours, in useless rage. So
he took a taxicab, and being by this time utterly reckless of cost let
it stand while he interviewed the Boyers.

Boyer himself, partially undressed, opened the door to his ring. Peter
was past explanation or ceremonial.

"Is Harmony here?" he demanded.

"Harmony?"

"Harmony Wells. She's disappeared, missing."

"Come in," said Boyer, alive to the strain in Peter's voice. "I don't
know, I haven't heard anything. I'll ask Mrs. Boyer."

During the interval it took for a whispered colloquy in the bedroom, and
for Mrs. Boyer to don her flannel wrapper, Peter suffered the tortures
of the damned. Whatever Mrs. Boyer had meant to say by way of protest at
the intrusion on the sacred privacy of eleven o'clock and bedtime died
in her throat. Her plump and terraced chin shook with agitation, perhaps
with guilt. Peter, however, had got himself in hand. He told a quiet
story; Boyer listened; Mrs. Boyer, clutching her wrapper about her
unstayed figure, listened.

"I thought," finished Peter, "that since you had offered her a
refuge--from me--she might have come here."

"I offered her a refuge--before I had been to the Pension Schwarz."

"Ah!" said Peter slowly. "And what about the Pension Schwarz?"

"Need you ask? I learned that you were all put out there. I am obliged
to say, Dr. Byrne, that under the circumstances had the girl come here I
could hardly--Frank, I will speak!--I could hardly have taken her in."

Peter went white and ducked as from a physical blow, stumbling out
into the hall again. There he thought of something to say in reply,
repudiation, thought better of it, started down the stairs.

Boyer followed him helplessly. At the street door, however, he put his
hand on Peter's shoulder. "You know, old man, I don't believe that.
These women--"

"I know," said Peter simply. "Thank you. Good-night."

CHAPTER XXII

Harmony's only thought had been flight, from Peter, from McLean, from
Mrs. Boyer. She had devoted all her energies to losing herself,
to cutting the threads that bound her to the life in the
Siebensternstrasse. She had drawn all her money, as Peter discovered
later. The discovery caused him even more acute anxiety. The city was
full of