rented from a New York agent for "Mr. and Mrs. Forest," Westerners who
wished to reside in New Jersey a year or so.

Its occupants had driven thither from New York. Rachel Craik, heavily
veiled and quietly attired, did her shopping in the nearest suburb, and
had choice of more than one line of rail. So East Orange knew them not,
nor had it even seen them.

In nowise discouraged, the man from the Bureau set about his inquiry
methodically. He interviewed policemen, railway officials, postmen, and
cabmen. Although the day was Sunday, he tracked men to their homes and
led them to talk. Empty houses, recently let houses, houses tenanted by
people who were "not particular" as to their means of getting a living,
divided his attention with persons who answered to the description of
Voles, Fowle, Rachel, or even the broken-armed Mick the Wolf; while he
plied every man with a minutely accurate picture of Winifred.

Hither and thither darted the motor till East Orange was scoured and
noted, and among twenty habitations jotted in the detective's notebook
the name of Gateway House figured. It was slow work, this task of
elimination, but they persisted, meeting rebuff after rebuff, especially
in the one or two instances where a couple of sharp-looking strangers
in a car were distinctly not welcome. They had luncheon at a local
hotel, and, by idle chance, were not pleased by the way in which the
meal was served.

So, when hungry again, and perhaps a trifle dispirited as the day waned
to darkness with no result, they went to another inn to procure a meal.
This time they were better looked after. Instead of a jaded German
waiter they were served by the landlord's daughter, a neat, befrilled
young damsel, who cheered them by her smile; though, to be candid, she
was anxious to get out for a walk with her young man.

"Have you traveled far?" she asked, by way of talk while laying the
table.

"From New York," said Steingall.

"At this hour--in a car?"

"Yes. Is that a remarkable thing here?"

"Not the car; but people in motors either whizz through of a morning
going away down the coast, or whizz back again of an evening returning
to New York."

"Ah!" put in Carshaw, "here is a pretty head which holds brains. It goes
in for ratiocinative reasoning. Now, I'll be bound to say that this
pretty head, which thinks, can help us."

A good deal of this was lost on the girl, but she caught the compliment
and smiled.

"It all depends