hurt yours--it does. I apologize."

"You are always joking. You don't understand how sweet and dear
animals are. You will probably treat me the same way after we are
married."

She ran to the spot where the wary Cyrus was munching the last piece of
candy. But he accepted her caresses without enthusiasm, keeping a
careful eye on Harry.

She called to the dog and walked briskly toward the house.

But Cyrus did not follow. The box of candy was still on the garden
bench, and Cyrus was not immune to temptation.

Owen followed on his motorcycle the runabout in which Balthazar and the
two chosen members of Rupert Wallace's band made their swift journey
toward Castle Marvin.

A quarter of a mile from the grounds Owen drew alongside.

"This would be a good place to stop. The car can be hidden in the
lane."

"Yes; master," said Balthazar.

He wheeled the machine upon a narrow roadway into the cover of the
woods, and, with his companions, got out. Owen rode on ahead and was
waiting for them as they neared the little foot path gate to the Marvin
grounds.

"Look through the hedge there," he directed.

Balthazar crawled on his hands and knees to the box wall that
surrounded the grounds. He thrust his shoulders through the bush and
gazed for a moment at the dog devouring Pauline's bon-bons on the
bench.

"I should say it would be well to act now--instantly, master," he
cried, returning.

"Go on. I will be at the house, and will try to hold them back if
there is any noise."

As Owen began to wheel his cycle up the drive to Castle Marvin,
Balthazar and his two aides wriggled through the hedge-row, crossed a
strip of sward and reached the bench. Balthazar caught the dog's head
in his powerful hands. There was not a sound. The animal's muzzle was
shut fast and in a minute it had been tied, leg and body. They ran to
the gate, to the runabout, and were away.

"Why Harry, I can't find him anywhere. What could have happened to
him?" cried Pauline, rushing into the library.

"Owen lost? Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed fervently.

"No; Cyrus. Harry it's your fault. He was angry because you pushed
him off the bench and he ran away."

"Polly," he said, wheeling in his chair, "I am not worried. I decline
to be worried. And I am going away from here."

"Not before you help me find Cyrus."

"Yes--long before."

She turned and whisked crossly out of the room.

Harry picked up his hat and coat, and in a fe