r's tone startled and perplexed her; she thought
of Donald now only as the most eager and most vindictive of Eaton's
pursuers. Was her father removing Donald from among those seeking
Eaton? Was he sending for him because what he had just learned was
something which would make more rigorous and desperate the search? The
blind man's look and manner told her nothing.

"You mean Donald is to wait here until you send for him, Father?"

"That is it."

It was the blind man's tone of dismissal. He seemed to have forgotten
the picture; at least, as his daughter moved toward the door, he gave
no direction concerning it. She halted, looking back at him. She
would not carry the picture away, secretly, like this. She was not
ashamed of her love for Eaton; whatever might be said or thought of
him, she trusted him; she was proud of her love for him.

"May I take the picture?" she asked steadily.

"Do whatever you want with it," her father answered quietly.

And so she took it with her. She found a servant of whom she inquired
for Avery; he had not returned so she sent for him. She went down to
the deserted library and waited there with the picture of Hugh in her
hand. The day had drawn to dusk. She could no longer see the picture
in the fading light; she could only recall it; and now, as she recalled
it, the picture itself---not her memory of her father's manner in
relation to it--gave her vague discomfort. She got up suddenly,
switched on the light and, holding the picture close to it, studied it.
What it was in the picture that gave her this strange uneasiness quite
separate and distinct from all that she had felt when she first looked
at it, she could not tell; but the more she studied it, the more
troubled and frightened she grew.

The picture was a plain, unretouched print pasted upon common square
cardboard without photographer's emboss or signature; and printed with
the picture, were four plain, distinct numerals--8253. She did not
know what they meant or if they had any real significance, but somehow
now she was more afraid for Hugh than she had been. She trembled as
she held the picture again to her cheek and then to her lips.

She turned; some one had come in from the hall; it was Donald. He was
in riding clothes and was disheveled and dusty from leading the men on
horseback through the woods. She saw at her first glance at him that
his search had not yet succeeded and she threw her head back in relie