itted the room, slamming
the door after him with a decided bang.

Before the sun set that night he was in New York City again and
searching for Dorothy.

It meant a fortune for him. He _must_ find her. He dared not think of
what failure would mean to him--of the ruin that would stare him in the
face.

The idea suggested itself to him that in all probability Dorothy would
seek out her old companions of the book-bindery. He felt that it would
be rather daring to go there, where he would meet Nadine Holt, after his
so abrupt desertion of her; but his anxiety over Dorothy overcame all
scruples, and late that afternoon the girls of the Hollingsworth
book-bindery were astonished at the door being flung suddenly open and
seeing the handsome young man whom they had known as the street-car
conductor and Nadine Holt's lover standing on the threshold.

His eyes ran rapidly over the scores of girls at their tables, resting
at length upon a fair, pale thoughtful young girl standing nearest him.
He remembered having often seen her with Dorothy. He recollected, too,
that her name was Nannie Switzer. He stepped up to her and raised his
hat with that courteous bow that was always so fascinating to young
girls.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but, finding myself in your vicinity, I
dropped in to look up my old friend. I refer to the young girl with whom
I used to see you so much--Dorothy Glenn."

To his utmost surprise, the young girl burst into a flood of tears.

"Oh, sir, you can not tell how your words affect me!" she sobbed.

"Why?" he asked, surprisedly.

The girl hung her pretty head, and her blue eyes sought the floor in the
greatest embarrassment.

"Will you tell me why?" he repeated, earnestly. "It is my right to know,
is it not, Miss Nannie?"

"Well, you see, sir," she stammered, confusedly, "we have not seen or
heard anything from Dorothy Glenn since Labor Day and every one
hereabouts thought that--that _you_ knew where she was."

He flushed a dark crimson and gave a guilty start.

"I am so glad to know that our suspicions were groundless," she
breathed, thankfully; adding: "I am indeed sorry that I can not tell you
where Dorothy is; we would all give the world to know, I assure you."

He could not help asking next, in a low, husky voice:

"What of Nadine Holt? Where is she?"

Again the girl's face clouded.

"She has worked right along here with us up to a week ago," she
answered, "and then Nadine went aw