even some more desperate crime. There was mystery here, at least, a
mystery beyond his power of discernment. However, this recognition rather
hardened him to his task, than otherwise. He had been forced into the
strange environment, and now meant to penetrate its every secret.

This time he locked the outer door carefully, and lay down on the bed,
wondering if there would be any further developments. As he attempted to
think, he was listening eagerly for the slightest sound of movement in
the hall. There were none; the transom stood partially open, but no noise
reached his ears from the outside; clearly enough the night prowler,
assured that he was still awake, had decided to make no further effort.
Doubtless she believed her escape had been unseen, or, at least, that she
had remained unrecognized in the gloom, and would now resort to some
entirely different method for achieving her end, whatever it could be. He
could only wait, and watch for the next move. Perhaps the morning would
bring full explanation. With this conception in his mind, his head sought
the pillow, and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

The long training of army service caused West to awaken early, while the
house was yet quiet, but with the dawn already red in the East. He
crossed to the window, and looked out. It was a beautiful morning, the
green lawn yet sparkling with dew; the estate was evidently a fine one,
quite extensive and carefully attended to. To the right of the tennis
court was a well arranged flower garden, criss-crossed by white paths, an
ornate summer-house in its centre, completely concealed by vines. Beyond
this, conspicuous against the green back-ground, West caught the flutter
of a white skirt, realizing instantly that, early as the hour was,
Natalie Coolidge was already up and about. He wondered if her presence
might not be an invitation for him? Perhaps she had deliberately chosen
this early hour, before the others awoke, to explain her strange conduct