come to Quebec,
seen Frank Rascor on the Dufferin Terrace, and recognized him as
Polter.

Again my thoughts went back into the past. Had Polter stolen that
missing fragment of golden quartz the size of a walnut which had been
beneath Dr. Kent's microscope? We always thought so. Dr. Kent had some
secret, some great problem upon which he was working. Polter, his
assistant, had evidently known, or partially known, its details. And
now, four years later, Polter was immensely rich, with a "gold mine"
in mountains where there was no other such evidence of gold!

I seemed to see some connection. Alan, I knew, was groping with a dim
idea, so strange he hardly dared voice it.

"I tell you, it's weird, George. The sight of him. Polter--heavens,
one couldn't mistake that hunchback--and his face, his features, just
the same as when we knew him."

"Then what's weird?? I demanded.

"His age." There was a queer solemn hush in Alan's voice. "George,
when we knew Polter, he was about twenty-five, wasn't he? Well, that
was four years ago. But he isn't twenty-nine now! I swear it's the
same man--but he isn't around thirty. Don't ask me what I'm talking
about. I don't know. But he isn't thirty. He's nearer fifty!
Unnatural! Weird! I felt it, and so did Babs, just that brief look we
had at him."

I did not answer. My attention was on managing the plane. The lights
of Sevis were under us. Beyond the city cliffs the St. Lawrence lay
in its deep valley; and the Quebec lights, the light-dotted ramparts
with the terrace and the great fortress-like hotel showed across the
river.

"Better take the stick, Alan. I don't know where the field is. And
don't you worry about Babs. She'll be back by now."

* * * * *

But she was not. We went to the two connecting rooms in the tower of
the hotel which Alan and Babs had engaged. We inquired with half a
dozen phone-calls. No one had seen or heard from her. The Quebec
police were sending a man up to talk to Alan.

"Well, we won't be here," Alan called to me. He was standing by the
window in Bab's room; he was trembling too much to use the phone. I
hung up the receiver and went through the connecting door to join him.

Bab's room! It sent a pang through me. A few of her garments were
lying around. A negligee was laid out on the dainty little bed. A
velvet boudoir doll--she had always loved them--stood on the dresser.
Upon this hotel room, in a day, she had impress