e sure of
myself."

He did not take off the soft felt hat which was drawn tightly over his
ears, nor did he remove his mask or cloak. She was making up her mind to
take a closer stock of him, when unexpectedly he backed towards the
door, and with a little nod was gone. He had left her on the couch, and
there she was, half dozing and half drugged when the matronly nurse from
St. George's Institute arrived half an hour later.

Stafford called in the afternoon and was surprised and delighted to
learn that he could speak to the girl. He found her looking better and
more cheerful. He bent over and kissed her cheek, and her hand sought
his.

"Now, I'm going to be awfully official," he laughed, "I want you to tell
me all sorts of things. The chief is very anxious that we should lose no
time in getting your story."

She shook her head.

"There's no story to tell, Stafford," she said.

"No story to tell?" he said incredulously. "But weren't you abducted?"

She nodded.

"There's that much you know," she said; "I was abducted and taken away.
I have been detained and I think drugged."

"No harm has come to you?" he asked anxiously.

Again she shook her head.

"But where did they take you? Who was it? Who were the people?"

"I can't tell you," she said.

"You don't know?"

She hesitated.

"Yes, I think I know, but I can't tell you."

"But why?" he asked in astonishment.

"Because the man who rescued me begged me not to tell, and, Stafford,
you don't know what he saved me from."

"He--he--who was it?" asked Stafford.

"The man called Jack o' Judgment," said the girl slowly, and Stafford
jumped up with a cry.

"Jack o' Judgment!" he said. "I ought to have guessed! Did you see his
face?" he demanded eagerly.

She shook her head again.

"Did he give you any clue as to his identity?"

"None whatever," she replied with a little gleam of amusement in her
eyes. "What a detective you are, Stafford! And I thought you were coming
down here to tell me"--the colour went to her cheeks--"well, to tell me
the news," she added hastily. "Is there any news?"

"None, except----"

Then he remembered that she knew nothing whatever of her father's death
and its tragic sequel, and this was not the moment to tell her. Later,
when she was stronger, perhaps.

She was watching him with trouble in her eyes. She had noted how quickly
he had stopped and guessed that there was something to be told which he
was withholding for f