s padded." Miss Metoaca's face was a study. "If they give you any
trouble I will send in a guard to assist you," and with this parting
threat he walked out of the room and banged the door to behind him.

"Don't you lay a finger on me," ordered Miss Metoaca belligerently. "If
you do I will box your ears!"

"What good would that do you?" asked Miss Watt practically. "I guess
you would rather have me than one of the men undress you. Do be
reasonable."

"Yes, Aunt Metoaca, let us get it over and done with." Nancy's face was
white, and she looked with frightened eyes at the two women. "President
Lincoln shall hear of this outrage."

"He shall!" Miss Metoaca's tone spoke volumes as she reluctantly began
undressing.

Deftly the women detectives went about their work. Nothing escaped
their notice. Garments were held up to the light to see if anything lay
concealed in the linings, some were ripped open; their shoes were
examined with care. Nothing was discovered.

"I hope you are satisfied," snapped Miss Metoaca, hot in spirit, but
decidedly cold physically. "I do not enjoy impersonating Eve. Give me
those underclothes at once!"

Miss Watt handed her the necessary articles. "Take down your hair," she
directed.

Miss Metoaca stopped dressing, one stocking suspended in air.

"What?" she exclaimed indignantly. "Is nothing above suspicion?" She
whirled around and saw the other detective cutting open a pincushion.
"Mercy sakes, what do you think you will find in that?"

"Quinine," answered the woman curtly. But her search was not rewarded,
and she threw the useless pincushion on the floor.

Without a word Nancy let down her hair. It fell in profusion over her
shoulders and down her back. Quickly the detective ran her fingers over
the girl's head. Without further ado Miss Watt did the same with Miss
Metoaca's scant gray locks.

"You can put on your clothes," she said, more kindly, and with skillful
fingers she assisted Miss Metoaca into her dress, and helped her
arrange her hair.

"Well!" Miss Metoaca drew a long breath. "I have been through a good
deal in my life, but I reckon this beats creation. I look like a
scarecrow! Nancy, are you ready? Yes. Then, perhaps, Miss Watt, you
will be good enough to inform that apology for a gentleman, Captain
Lloyd, that I would like to see him."

Lloyd came at once in answer to the detective's call. His face fell
when she declared nothing had been found of a suspicious nature, an