expression," that she hesitated, and her opportunity was lost.

"I think I must go now," she announced abruptly, and rose, got past him
somehow, and made blindly for the door. Then there was the dim vista of
the long hall stretching before her, like a path of escape, and she fled
its length, and down that of the staircase. Then out at the street-door,
and into the chill of the cold December noonday.

When she had vanished, Francis Ronald stood a moment with eyes fixed in
the direction she had taken. Then, abruptly, he seized the telephone
that stood upon the table beside him, switched it to connect with the
basement region, and called for Mrs. Slawson.

"This is Mr. Ronald speaking. Is Martha there?"

"Yes, sir. Please hold the wire, and I'll call her."

"Be quick!"

"Yes, sir!"

A second, and Martha's voice repeated his name. "Mr. Ronald, this is
Martha!"

"Good! I want you to put on your things at once, and follow Miss Lang,"
he directed briefly. "I do not think she's sick, but as she was talking
to me, I noticed she grew suddenly quite pale, and seemed troubled and
anxious. Waste no time! Go at once!"

The only answer was a sharp click over the wire, as Mrs. Slawson snapped