did you know? Where is my mother? Did you send me
a message? Oh, tell me quickly, please!"

"Now, dearie, don't get excited," soothed the woman in accents that
only made Freda worry more. "It will be all right. I sent for you to
come here because I wanted to have a chance to talk to you alone. Now
if you'll sit down----"

"What do you mean?" asked Freda, quickly. "I don't know you. What do
you want?"

"Just to have a little talk with you. I thought it better to take this
means than to go to your house. Sit down. You and your mother are
trying to establish a claim to some property; aren't you?"

"Yes, that is well known. But what do you----"

"Never mind about that. I will tell you all in due time. Have you any
papers to prove your claim?"

"Any papers?" asked Freda, suspiciously.

"Yes--deeds, mortgages or the like. I have studied law, and I may be
able to help you. I have had experience in many disputed claims."

"We don't know where----" Freda was about to say that they did not
know where the papers were, when she thought better of it. Was it
right to confide thus in a stranger?

"Now, dearie, tell me everything," said the woman. "You can trust me.
Or, better still, if you will come with me to the country hotel where
I am stopping we will not be disturbed. Better come with me," and in
her eagerness she caught Freda by the arm.

"No, no! I'll not go!" gasped the girl. "I want to find my mother. Who
are you, and why do you ask me these questions? Did you send me that
false message? What was your purpose in so deceiving me?"

"I did not deceive you!" replied the woman, sharply. "It was for the
good of your mother that I asked you to meet me here. I will explain
all to you later, but not here. I can do you good. Only trust me. Come
with me. I have a carriage waiting outside."

Again she caught Freda's arm.

Then the harassed and nervous girl burst into tears. A kindly-faced
hack driver, waiting outside in the hope of having some belated
traveler hire him, heard. Dick Bently was a benevolent sort of chap,
with daughters of his own. Hearing a girl crying he went into the
depot.

"What's the matter, Miss?" he asked, and his tone was reassuring.

"Oh, it's my mother!" gasped Freda. "She isn't here, and this--this
person sent me a message----"

"It was for your good, my dear," interrupted the strange woman, with
an evil smile. "I'm trying to settle that property matter for you, my
dearie!"

"Who are you,