The young man found his cousin stalking up and down in an extremely
nervous manner. She wrung her delicate fingers with a swift, spasmodic
motion. Her eyes, nearly closed, shot red rays through their slits.

"What's wrong, Di?" demanded Mershone, considerably surprised by this
intense display of emotion on the part of his usually self-suppressed
and collected cousin.

"Wrong!" she echoed; "everything is wrong. You've ruined yourself,
Charlie; and you're going to draw me into this dreadful crime, also, in
spite of all I can do!"

"Bah! don't be a fool," he observed, calmly taking a chair.

"Am _I_ the fool?" she exclaimed, turning upon him fiercely. "Did _I_
calmly perpetrate a deed that was sure to result in disgrace and
defeat?"

"What on earth has happened to upset you?" he asked, wonderingly. "It
strikes me everything is progressing beautifully."

"Does it, indeed?" was her sarcastic rejoinder. "Then your information
is better than mine. They called me up at three o'clock this morning to
enquire after Louise Merrick--as if _I_ should know her whereabouts. Why
did they come to _me_ for such information? Why?" she stamped her foot
for emphasis.

"I suppose," said Charlie Mershone, "they called up everyone who knows
the girl. It would be natural in case of her disappearance."