t. Such a time has come now for me."

"But 'Aunt Rachel' may find her. Is she strong-willed enough to resist
cajoling, and seek the aid of the law if force is threatened?"

"Yes, I am sure now. What she heard and saw of those two men during the
mad run along the Post Road supplied good and convincing reasons why she
should refuse to return to Miss Craik."

"Why are you unwilling to charge them with attempted murder?" said
Steingall, for Carshaw had stipulated there should be no legal
proceedings.

"My lawyers advise against it," he said simply.

"You've consulted them?"

"Yes, called in on my way here. When I reached home after seeing
Winifred fixed comfortably in Miss Goodman's, I opened a letter from my
lawyers, requesting an interview--on another matter, of course. Meaning
to marry Winifred, if she'll take me, I thought it wise to tell them
something about recent events."

Steingall carefully chose a cigar from a box of fifty, all exactly
alike, nipped the end off, and lighted it. Clancy's fingers drummed
impatiently on the table at which the three were seated. Evidently he
expected the chief to play Sir Oracle. But the head of the Bureau
contented himself with the comment that he was still interested in
Winifred Bartlett's history, and would be glad to have any definite
particulars which Carshaw might gather.

Clancy sighed so heavily on hearing this "departmental" utterance that
Carshaw was surprised.

"If I could please myself, I'd rush Winifred to the City Hall for a
marriage license to-day," he said, believing he had fathomed the other's
thought.

"I'm a bit of a Celt on the French and Irish sides," snapped Clancy,
"and that means an ineradicable vein of romance in my make-up. But I'm
a New York policeman, too--a guy who has to mind his own business far
more frequently than the public suspects."

And there the subject dropped. Truth to tell, the department had to
tread warily in stalking such big game as a Senator. Carshaw was a
friend of the Towers, and "the yacht mystery" had been deliberately
squelched by the highly influential persons most concerned. It was
impolitic, it might be disastrous, if Senator Meiklejohn's name were
dragged into connection with that of the unsavory Voles on the flimsy
evidence, or, rather, mere doubt, affecting Winifred Bartlett's early
life.

Winifred herself lived in a passive but blissful state of dreams during
the three weeks. Perhaps, in her heart of hearts, she