Poor Daisy answered in such a vague manner that she quite frightened
the child, who hurried away as fast as she could with her hoop,
pausing now and then to look back at the white, forlorn face on which
the sunshine seemed to cast such strange shadows.

On and on Daisy walked, little heeding which way she went. She saw
what appeared to be a park on ahead, and there she bent her steps. The
shady seats among the cool green grasses under the leafy trees looked
inviting. She opened the gate and entered. A sudden sense of dizziness
stole over her, and her breath seemed to come in quick, convulsive
gasps.

"Perhaps God has heard my prayer, Rex, my love," she sighed. "I am
sick and weary unto death. Oh, Rex--Rex--"

The beautiful eyelids fluttered over the soft, blue eyes, and with
that dearly loved name on her lips, the poor little child-bride sunk
down on the cold, hard earth in a death-like swoon.

"Oh, dear me, Harvey, who in the world is this?" cried a little,
pleasant-voiced old lady, who had witnessed the young girl enter the
gate, and saw her stagger and fall. In a moment she had fluttered down
the path, and was kneeling by Daisy's side.

"Come here, Harvey," she called; "it is a young girl; she has
fainted."

Mr. Harvey Tudor, the celebrated detective, threw away the cigar he
had been smoking, and hastened to his wife's side.

"Isn't she beautiful?" cried the little lady, in ecstasy. "I wonder
who she is, and what she wanted."

"She is evidently a stranger, and called to consult me professionally,"
responded Mr. Tudor; "she must be brought into the house."

He lifted the slight, delicate figure in his arms, and bore her into
the house.

"I am going down to the office now, my dear," he said; "we have some
important cases to look after this morning. I will take a run up in
the course of an hour or so. If the young girl should recover and
wish to see me very particularly, I suppose you will have to send for
me. Don't get me away up here unless you find out the case is
imperative."

And with a good-humored nod, the shrewd detective, so quiet and
domesticated at his own fireside, walked quickly down the path to the
gate, whistling softly to himself--thinking with a strange, puzzled
expression in his keen blue eyes, of Daisy. Through all of his
business transactions that morning the beautiful, childish face was
strangely before his mind's eye.

"Confound it!" he muttered, seizing his hat, "I must hurry home