eady tones as he could summon, "but if you suggest that any girl will
come to harm from Captain Maitland, then I say you are a liar and a
fool." So speaking, little Vic set himself for the rush which he was
firmly convinced would come. McNish, however, stood still, fighting for
control. Then, between his deep-drawn breaths, he slowly spoke:

"Ye may be richt. A hope tae God A am baith liar and fule." The agony in
his face moved Vic to pity.

"I say, old chap," he said, "you are terribly mistaken somehow, I can
swear to that. Where is Maitland, anyway, do you know?"

"They went away together." McNish had suddenly gotten himself in hand.
"They went away in his car, secretly."

"Secretly," said Vic, scornfully. "Now, that is perfect rot. Look here,
do you know Captain Maitland? I am his friend, and let me tell you that
all I ever hope to own, here and hereafter, and all my relatives and
friends, I would gladly trust with him."

"Maybe, maybe," muttered McNish. "Ye may be richt. A apologise, sir, but
if--" His eyes blazed again.

"Aw, cut out the tragedy stuff," said Vic, "and don't be an ass.
Good-night."

Vic turned on his heel and left McNish standing in a dull and dazed
condition, and made his way toward the ballroom.

"Who is the Johnny, anyway?" he said to himself. "He is
mad--looney--utterly bughouse. Needs a keeper in the worst way. But what
about the Captain--must think up something. Let's see. Taken
suddenly ill? Hardly--there is the girl to account for. Her
mother--grandmother--or something--stricken--let's see. Annette has
a brother--By Jove! the very thing--I've got it--brother met with an
accident--run over--fell down a well--anything. Hurry call--ambulance
stuff. Good line. Needs working up a bit, though. What has happened to
my grey matter? Let me think. Ah, yes--when that Johnny brought word
of an accident, a serious accident to her brother, Maitland, naturally
enough, the gallant soul, hurries her off in his car, sending word by
aforesaid mad Johnny."

Vic went to the outer door, feeling the necessity for a somewhat careful
conning of his tale to give it, as he said himself, a little artistic
verisimilitude. Then, with his lesson--as he thought--well learned, and
praying for aid of unknown gods, he went back to find his partner.

"If only Patricia will keep out of it," he said to himself as he neared
the hall door, "or if I could only catch old Hugh first. But he is not
much of a help in this s