the front of a rather imposing stone mansion, set well back from the
road. West caught a glimpse of a green lawn, a maze of stables at the
rear, and a tennis-court with several busily engaged players. Then they
were at the side entrance, and a servant, in the same unobtrusive livery
as the chauffeur, was quietly opening the door. He turned and helped his
companion to emerge.

"Take the gentleman's bag to the Blue Room, Sexton," she said calmly,
"and then lay out his evening clothes."

"Yes, miss."

"I will be in the hall when you come down, Captain, but there is
no hurry."

West followed the servant up the softly carpeted stairs, finding the
apartment assigned him not only extremely comfortable, but even elegant
in its furnishing. He stood at the window looking down on the tennis
court, while Sexton opened the bag, and spread out the required
garments on the bed. Evidently he was in a home of wealth and
refinement. The grounds outspread before his eyes were spacious and
attractive; in the distance he even perceived an artificial lake with
paths winding enticingly along its shore, and through strips of
woodland. Who could this strange girl be? this Natalie Coolidge? And
what could she possible desire of him? These questions remained
unanswered, yet continually tantalized. He could not even grasp her
personality. In spite of her apparent friendliness, her irresistible
smile, her lack of conventionality, there remained a certain reserve
about the young woman he felt quite unable to penetrate. Whatever game
she was playing she kept the cards securely in her own hands. He was