s right."

We sat there, the three of us, without attempt at conversation. Both
Gertrude and I recognized the futility of asking Louise any questions:
her reticence was a part of a role she had assumed. Our ears were
strained for the first throb of the motor as it turned into the drive
and commenced the climb to the house. Ten minutes passed, fifteen,
twenty. I saw Louise's hands grow rigid as they clutched the arms of
her chair. I watched Gertrude's bright color slowly ebbing away, and
around my own heart I seemed to feel the grasp of a giant hand.

Twenty-five minutes, and then a sound. But it was not the chug of the
motor: it was the unmistakable rumble of the Casanova hack. Gertrude
drew aside the curtain and peered into the darkness.

"It's the hack, I am sure," she said, evidently relieved. "Something
has gone wrong with the car, and no wonder--the way Halsey went down
the hill."

It seemed a long time before the creaking vehicle came to a stop at the
door. Louise rose and stood watching, her hand to her throat. And
then Gertrude opened the door, admitting Mr. Jamieson and a stocky,
middle-aged man. Halsey was not with them. When the door had closed
and Louise realized that Halsey had not come, her expression changed.
From tense watchfulness to relief, and now again to absolute despair,
her face was an open page.

"Halsey?" I asked unceremoniously, ignoring the stranger. "Did he not
meet you?"

"No." Mr. Jamieson looked slightly surprised. "I rather expected the
car, but we got up all right."

"You didn't see him at all?" Louise demanded breathlessly.

Mr. Jamieson knew her at once, although he had not seen her before.
She had kept to her rooms until the morning she left.

"No, Miss Armstrong," he said. "I saw nothing of him. What is wrong?"

"Then we shall have to find him," she asserted. "Every instant is
precious. Mr. Jamieson, I have reason for believing that he is in
danger, but I don't know what it is. Only--he must be found."

The stocky man had said nothing. Now, however, he went quickly toward
the door.

"I'll catch the hack down the road and hold it," he said. "Is the
gentleman down in the town?"

"Mr. Jamieson," Louise said impulsively, "I can use the hack. Take my
horse and trap outside and drive like mad. Try to find the Dragon
Fly--it ought to be easy to trace. I can think of no other way. Only,
don't lose a moment."

The new detective had gone, and a moment la