for them. I am violating professional ethics when I tell you even as
much as that."

I could not tell him he lied. I think I looked it. But I hazarded a
random shot.

"I thought perhaps," I said, watching him narrowly, "that it might be
about--Nina Carrington."

For a moment I thought he was going to strike me. He grew livid, and a
small crooked blood-vessel in his temple swelled and throbbed
curiously. Then he forced a short laugh.

"Who is Nina Carrington?" he asked.

"I am about to discover that," I replied, and he was quiet at once. It
was not difficult to divine that he feared Nina Carrington a good deal
more than he did the devil. Our leave-taking was brief; in fact, we
merely stared at each other over the waiting-room table, with its
litter of year-old magazines. Then I turned and went out.

"To Richfield," I told Warner, and on the way I thought, and thought
hard.

"Nina Carrington, Nina Carrington," the roar and rush of the wheels
seemed to sing the words. "Nina Carrington, N. C." And I then knew,
knew as surely as if I had seen the whole thing. There had been an N.
C. on the suit-case belonging to the woman with the pitted face. How
simple it all seemed. Mattie Bliss had been Nina Carrington. It was
she Warner had heard in the library. It was something she had told
Halsey that had taken him frantically to Doctor Walker's office, and
from there perhaps to his death. If we could find the woman, we might
find what had become of Halsey.

We were almost at Richfield now, so I kept on. My mind was not on my
errand there now. It was back with Halsey on that memorable night.
What was it he had said to Louise, that had sent her up to Sunnyside,
half wild with fear for him? I made up my mind, as the car drew up
before the Tate cottage, that I would see Louise if I had to break into
the house at night.

Almost exactly the same scene as before greeted my eyes at the cottage.
Mrs. Tate, the baby-carriage in the path, the children at the
swing--all were the same.

She came forward to meet me, and I noticed that some of the anxious
lines had gone out of her face. She looked young, almost pretty.

"I am glad you have come back," she said. "I think I will have to be
honest and give you back your money."

"Why?" I asked. "Has the mother come?"

"No, but some one came and paid the boy's board for a month. She
talked to him for a long time, but when I asked him afterward he didn't
know he