o have a
sore face wash all that nasty stuff off it."

Lichtenstein had already changed, and was coming up the driveway
carrying a suit-case. Bubbles brought him at once, and with great pride,
to Barbara. Mr. Lichtenstein had never seen her before. In his bow there
was a trace of Oriental elaboration. And his curiously meagreish,
pug-nosed sandy face beamed with pleasure and admiration.

"I thought I knew my New York, Miss Ferris," he said, "but it seems I
was mistaken."

Since the compliment was obviously sincere, Barbara took pleasure in it,
and the pleasure showed in her charming face. "And Bubbles says," said
she, "that you are the 'finest ever.' I'm glad if staying here is going
to help the cause. You can be as private as you like--" But a sudden
change had come over Lichtenstein's face, the smile had vanished, the
eyes grown sharp, even stern. "What is your maid's name?" he
asked abruptly.

"My maid? Why, what about her?"

"She passed just now--by that door. I saw her in the mirror at the end
of the room. What's her name?"

"Marion--" Barbara hesitated.

"O'Brien?"

"Yes, O'Brien."

[Illustration: He caught her by the wrist, drew her to her feet, and
into the room]

"I thought so. She's in Blizzard's pay. If she has recognized me--Shut
the door into the hall, Bubbles."

The door being shut, Lichtenstein crossed the room and stood near it,
his hand on the knob. For nearly a minute he neither moved nor changed
expression. Then a smile flickered about his mouth, and, sure of his
effect, with a sharp gesture he flung the door wide open, and discovered
Miss Marion O'Brien kneeling in the opening. He caught her by the wrist,
drew her to her feet, and into the room.

"Marion!" exclaimed Miss Ferris.

XL

There was a long silence during which Miss O'Brien tried to look
defiant, and succeeded only in shedding a few tears. Barbara had always
liked the girl, and now felt profoundly sorry for her. Liechtenstein,
too, seemed sorry and at a loss for words. The position was difficult.
The O'Brien's eavesdropping warranted her discharge, and nothing more.
She would go straight to Blizzard and disclose Lichtenstein's
whereabouts. But this in itself was merely an annoyance, as in the
meanwhile the secret service head could go elsewhere. There was nothing
for it but to discharge her and let her go. So Lichtenstein said
presently, and then wrote with a pencil on a card. This card he handed
to the maid.