rm of
Hickory; but a spell seemed to emanate from the huge trunk against which
he leaned that restrained him when he sought to go, and noticing almost
at the same moment that the path which Miss Dare would have to take in
her departure ran directly under this tree, he yielded to the apathy of
the moment and remained where he was.

Soon after he was visited by Hickory.

"I can see nothing and hear nothing," was that individual's hurried
salutation. "She and Mr. Orcutt are evidently still in the library, but
I cannot get a clue to what is going on. I shall keep up my watch,
however, for I want to catch a glimpse of her face as she steps from the
window." And he was off again before Byrd could reply.

But the next instant he was back, panting and breathless.

"The light is out in the library," he cried; "we shall see her no more
to-night."

But scarcely had the words left his lips when a faint sound was heard
from the region of the piazza, and looking eagerly up the path, they saw
the form of Miss Dare coming hurriedly toward them.

To slip around into the deepest shadow cast by the tree was but the work
of a moment. Meantime, the moon shone brightly on the walk down which
she was speeding, and as, in the agitation of her departure, she had
forgotten to draw down her veil, they succeeded in obtaining a view of
her face. It was pale, and wore an expression of fear, while her feet
hasted as though she were only filled with thoughts of escape.

Seeing this, the two detectives held their breaths, preparing to follow
her as soon as she had passed the tree. But she did not pass the tree.
Just as she got within reach of its shadow, a commanding voice was heard
calling upon her to stop, and Mr. Orcutt came hurrying, in his turn,
down the path.

"I cannot let you go thus," he cried, pausing beside her on the walk
directly under the tree. "If you command me to save Craik Mansell I must
do it. What you wish must be done, Imogene."

"My wishes should not be needed to lead you to do your duty by the man
you believe to be innocent of the charge for which he is being tried,"
was her earnest and strangely cold reply.

"Perhaps not," he muttered, bitterly; "but--ah, Imogene," he suddenly
broke forth, in a way to startle these two detectives, who, however
suspicious they had been of his passion, had never before had the
opportunity of seeing him under its control, "what have you made of me
with your bewildering graces and indomi