her face white as the winter's snow, almost too white for the
living.

So she stood now; the dancing light from the fire fell full on her
countenance, revealing it for the first time plainly to the gaze of
the detective.

A low, stunned cry escaped from his lips.

"My God! It is Sibyl Osborne, the Burlington Captain's daughter."

A low laugh fell from the girl's lips.

She began humming a gay tune, and danced across the room with arms
outstretched, as though attempting to fly.

The truth came with stunning force--the poor girl was crazy! Her
father, a wealthy Burlington real estate broker, had mysteriously
disappeared some months before, and it was supposed that he had met
with foul play. Despite the efforts of Dyke Darrel and other
detectives, no clew had yet been found of the missing man. The
detective had met Sibyl at her father's house, and had regarded her as
one both beautiful and accomplished. To meet her as now was a terrible
revelation indeed.

No wonder Dyke Darrel was stunned.

For some moments he stood in pained silence, watching the antics of
the poor unfortunate.

"Hubert will come, Hubert will come," she sung, as she glided back and
forth across the floor.

What had caused this awful calamity? Dyke Darrel asked this question
in saddened thoughtfulness, as he gazed upon the beautiful wreck
before him.

"Tell me that Hubert will come, sir, and then I won't believe that he
wrote that cruel letter," cried Sibyl, in a mournful voice, pausing in
front of the detective. "I cannot tell you unless you show me the
letter," returned Dyke Darrel, resolving to humor her.

Quickly she drew from her bosom a letter and placed it in the
detective's hand.

He drew it from the wrapper, hoping to learn something that might give
him a clew to the situation.

This is what he read:

"MISS SIBYL OSBORNE: I am sorry to inform you that I cannot see you
again. I am off for Europe on my wedding tour. Forget me as soon as
possible.

"H. VANDER."

"Do you think my Hubert could write anything so cruel?" she
questioned, as he handed the missive back to her.

"It doesn't seem possible," answered Dyke Darrel.

It was evident to his mind that the girl had become crazed on account
of her father's disappearance and the treachery of her lover. The
detective's heart beat sympathetically for the poor wronged girl. It
was his duty to see the girl safely on her way to the Burlington ere
he continued his search for the