beautiful; and her mouth was almost perfect.
Her fresh face expressed unfeigned interest, and though generally grave
as she glanced about her, she smiled at times, evidently at her
own thoughts.

"I don't just make her out," repeated Mr. Dennison, softly. "I never saw
her before, as I remember, and yet--!" He looked at her again.

"Why, I do not see that she is acting at all mysteriously," said Keith.
"I think she is a music-teacher. She is about the prettiest girl in the
room. She may be a stranger, like myself, as no one is talking to her."

"Don't no stranger git in here," said Mr. Dennison, decisively. "You see
how different she is from the others. Most of them don't think about
anything but themselves. She ain't thinkin' about herself at all; she is
watchin' others. She may be a reporter--she appears mighty interested
in clothes."

"A reporter!"

The surprise in Keith's tone amused his old pupil. "Yes, a sassiety
reporter. They have curious ways here. Why, they pay money to git
themselves in the paper."

Just then so black a look came into his face for a second that Keith
turned and followed his glance. It rested on Ferdy Wickersham, who was
passing at a little distance, with Mrs. Wentworth on his arm.

"There's one I am watchin' on my own account," said the detective. "I'm
comin' up with him, and some day I'm goin' to light on him." His eye
gave a flash and then became as calm and cold as usual. Presently he
spoke again:

"I don't forgit nothin'--'pears like I can't do it." His voice had a new
subtone in it, which somehow sent Keith's memory back to the past. "I
don't forgit a kindness, anyway," he said, laying his hand for a second
on Keith's arm. "Well, see you later, sir." He moved slowly on. Keith
was glad that patient enemy was not following him.

Keith's inspection of the young girl had inflamed his interest. It was
an unusual face--high-bred and fine. Humor lurked about the corners of
her mouth; but resolution also might be read there. And Keith knew how
those big, dark eyes could flash. And she was manifestly having a good
time all to herself. She was dressed much more simply than any other
woman he saw, in a plain muslin dress; but she made a charming picture
as she stood against the wall, her dark eyes alight with interest. Her
brown hair was drawn back from a brow of snowy whiteness, and her little
head was set on her shoulders in a way that recalled to Keith an old
picture. She would have ha