hen she took off the gloves, unpinned her hat
and smoothed her hair. This was gone through with careful elaboration
and afterwards there was a pause; the girl then gathered up the
things, got into the machine, placed the hat upon the seat beside her,
went careening away with never a backward glance.

But the man in the tree seemed in no haste to follow; instead he
covered the distant house with his glass and waited patiently. Five,
ten, fifteen minutes passed, then half an hour and finally an hour. At
the end of that time, however, a figure emerged from the trees about
the house and walked hastily toward the road; the eyes of the watcher
glistened, his fine teeth shone in an appreciative smile.

Reaching the road where the car had stopped, the newcomer, who was
young, well-dressed and rather good-looking, suddenly paused, stooped
and lifted something from the ground. He held in his hands the work
gloves of Miss Vale, which she had dropped after taking them off. For
a moment the young man stood looking at them as though hesitating what
to do; then he turned, went to the roadside and placed them carefully
upon the top rail of the fence. Then trudging along on his way, he
unsuspectingly passed beneath the maple which concealed the man with
the glass.

When he was out of sight, the Italian slipped down the tree and ran
lightly along the road to the place where the gloves lay. He took up
one and looked within; but it was empty. However, in the thumb of the
next was a slip of paper which bore a single line of writing:

"Tobin Rangnow."

Studying this for a moment, the Italian made a copy of it. Then he
slipped it back into the thumb of the glove and replaced both exactly
as they were; after which he made his way back to the motor cycle, and
mounting, went flying toward the city.

CHAPTER XVIII

ASHTON-KIRK TELLS WHY

It was about four in the afternoon, and young Pendleton sat in
Ashton-Kirk's big chair, reading the newspapers and waiting. Finally
he rang a bell and Stumph gravely appeared.

"Are you sure that he said three?" asked Pendleton.

"_About_ three, sir," replied the man.

"Oh! I suppose he's been detained then. That will be all, Stumph!"

When the man disappeared, Pendleton lighted a cigar and resumed his
reading. The Hume case was still holding its place as the news feature
of the day. Nothing had occurred to equal it in sensation; and the
huge headings flared across the front pages, undimini