great city and he has not a peso with him. Moreover, he brought me
luck. What can I do, Senorita, to find him once more?"

Willa cut the woman's protestations short, and, calling up the
garage--their prearranged rendez-vous--instructed Dan to meet her at
the bridge.

Intent on the new calamity, she gave no heed as to the probability of
having been overheard by Angie, but hurriedly departed.

The deeply concerned Dan broke all records and narrowly escaped arrest
in getting her to the Rodriguez home, but nothing further could be
elicited from its dismayed chatelaine. Her sincerity, however, was
self-evident; she could have had no hand in the disappearance of the
little hunchback.

The day was spent in a feverishly renewed search which brought no
surcease of anxiety and at its end Willa dragged herself with leaden
feet to her room. Her head seemed bursting and she shook as with an
ague as she dressed for the tedious dinner and the still more tedious
game of bridge which was the program of the evening. She dared not
absent herself, explanations enough would be demanded of her for the
day's broken engagements, but she looked forward to the hours ahead
with a dread foreboding which she could not name.

It was merely nerves, she assured herself; she was worn-out mentally
and physically with the continued strain and ceaseless effort and she
forced her thoughts resolutely away from the false but ecstatic
happiness which might have been hers on that evening save for the
discovery of Kearn Thode's perfidy.

The arrival of the expected guests commanded her descent to the
drawing-room, dinner somehow dragged through its almost interminable
length and the bridge-tables were made up, when a diversion occurred.

The door-bell pealed, and Welch obeyed its summons, then came and
called Ripley Halstead quietly from his place. No premonition warned
Willa, even when her cousin returned visibly perturbed and excused
himself for the evening, pleading an unanticipated business conference.

The tables were readjusted and the game went on to its close. Then
came supper, and when the last of the guests had departed the hands of
the clock were on the stroke of twelve and Willa turned with a sigh of
relief to ascend to her room.

Midway the stairs, she was halted by hearing her name called in
strange, stunned accents, and, turning, saw Ripley Halstead standing in
the library door, regarding her with dazed, half-incredulous eyes,