about it."

"You will make a long story out of nothing," he exclaimed, impatiently;
"and fooling my time here may cost me a fortune."

Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed his seat at his wife's earnest
persuasion.

"Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the main
points," he said.

Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently obeyed.

It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself to
get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from his seat, and
paced restlessly up and down the room. He was literally astounded.

"Rex Lyon's wife," he mused, thoughtfully. "Well, in all the years of
my experience I have never come across anything like this. She has
gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to stop the marriage?" he
questioned, eagerly.

"Yes," she replied, "the poor child was almost frantic over it. You
seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new case connected with
her?"

"Yes," he answered, grimly. "I think I have two cases."

Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his fireside.
His little wife knew as little of business matters as the sparrows
twittering on the branches of the trees out in the garden.

He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that had lodged
in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the complicated
affair.

He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, however.
Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the portrait from his
pocket.

"I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair as I
anticipated."

Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder.

"Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare," she cried, in
amazement, "if it isn't Daisy Brooks!"

"Mrs. Rex Lyon, you mean," said the detective, with a sly twinkle in
his eye. "But for once in your life you are at sea--and far from
shore; this portrait represents a different person altogether. Come,
come, wife, get me a cup of tea--quick--and a biscuit," he cried,
leading the way to the kitchen, where the savory supper was cooking.
"I haven't time to wait for tea, I must overtake that girl before she
reaches Whitestone Hall."

CHAPTER XXXVI.

The shade of night was wrapping its dusky mantle over the earth as
Daisy, flushed and excited, and trembling in every limb, alighted from
the train at Allendale.

Whitestone Hall was quite a distance from the station; she had quite a
walk before her.

Not a breath of air