th caught up with her.

"But, Phrony--" But she hurried on, shaking her head, and talking to
herself about finding her baby and about its beauty. Keith kept up with
her, put his hand in his pocket, and taking out several bills, handed
them to her.

"Here, you must take this, and tell me where you are staying."

She took the money mechanically.

"Where am I? Oh!--where am I staying? Sixteen Himmelstrasse, third
floor--yes, that's it. No:--18 Rue Petits Champs, troisieme etage. Oh,
no:--241 Hill Street. I'll show you the baby. I must get it now." And
she sped away, coughing.

Keith, having watched her till she disappeared, walked on in deep
reflection, hardly knowing what course to take. Presently his brow
cleared. He turned and went rapidly back to the great office building
where Wickersham had his offices on the first floor. He asked for Mr.
Wickersham. A clerk came forward. Mr. Wickersham was not in town. No, he
did not know when he would be back.

After a few more questions as to the possible time of his return, Keith
left his card.

That evening Keith went to the address that Phrony had given him. It was
a small lodging-house of, perhaps, the tenth rate. The dowdy woman in
charge remembered a young woman such as he described. She was ill and
rather crazy and had left several weeks before. She had no idea where
she had gone. She did not know her name. Sometimes she called herself
"Miss Tripper," sometimes "Mrs. Wickersham."

Keith took a cab and drove to the detective agency where Dave Dennison
had his office. Keith told him why he had come, and Dave listened with
tightened lips and eyes in which the flame burned deeper and deeper.

"I'll find her," he said.

Having set Dennison to work, Keith next directed his steps toward the
commodious house to which the Rev. William H. Rimmon had succeeded,
along with the fashionable church and the fashionable congregation which
his uncle had left.

He was almost sure, from the name she had mentioned, that Mr. Rimmon had
performed the ceremony. Rimmon had from time to time connected his name
with matrimonial affairs which reflected little credit on him.

From the time Mr. Rimmon had found his flattery and patience rewarded,
the pulpit from which Dr. Little had for years delivered a well-weighed,
if a somewhat dry, spiritual pabulum had changed.

Mr. Rimmon knew his congregation too well to tax their patience with any
such doctrinal sermons as his uncle had been giv