r the place was only furnished with a small circular window,
nearly obscured by ivy and high up in the wall.

It would serve well enough as a refuge if the man had not seen the
fluttering of her white skirt amid the leafy screen. He would pass on
his way to the house and all would be well. But if he had seen her, and
was of an inquisitive turn of mind, her retreat would be cut off, for
there were no signs of an exit at the rear. It was sure to be some one
belonging to the house, or at any rate a privileged person, for the gate
was a private one, intended only for the use of the master of The Hut.
Would the man pass by, or would he come in and tax her with
unwarrantable trespass? Her hasty glance had not told her whether he had
a right to do so, as it had not enabled her to recognize him.

But a moment later she did, when the doorway darkened and on the
threshold there stood the individual whom she had dubbed "The Bootlace
Man"--the seeming pedlar who had sneaked in and out of the side entrance
at her father's house two days before, and who in other garb had called
out of the train to draw the attention of Montague Maynard's picnic
party to "the face in the pool."

He blinked in his efforts to pierce the gloom of the dim interior, and
then with a muttered oath produced a box of wax matches and struck a
light. As the tiny flame flared up and showed him the pale but defiant
face of the girl, he gave a little cackling laugh and puffed out his
bloated cheeks in evil triumph.

"Golly, but this is a bit of all right!" his alcoholic exclamation smote
Enid's ears and nose. "The governor will chalk this up to my score like
the generous patron he is. Now you stay there, Missy, and meditate on
the sin of curiosity till--well, till some one comes and lets you out."

With which he stepped back and slammed the door in the girl's face. A
moment later the grating of the key in the lock told her that she was a
prisoner.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE TRAP IS SET

About the time when the door of the stone grotto in the grounds of The
Hut swung to on Enid Mallory, Mr. Travers Nugent's motor car was rushing
up the avenue at the Manor House two miles away. At the main entrance of
the mansion Nugent got down and rang the bell, and while waiting turned
and spoke to his chauffeur.

"I shall want you to be busy this evening, Dixon," he said. "When we get
home see that your tanks are full, and have the car ready for any
emergency. I may w