An hour passed, but no token of a human being was in evidence; not
even the voice nor the footstep of a servant had been heard, and Paul
sat consuming cigarettes at a rate that showed clearly his
impatience. At last he returned to the house, and going to his room
took pen and paper and wrote, in a large hand:

Will Miss Guir kindly let me know at what hour I may see her?
I shall await her answer in the garden.

PAUL HENLEY.

Not being able to find a servant, he took this downstairs and
suspended it from the hanging lamp by a thread, and then returned to
the garden to tramp up and down the neglected paths, between the
boxwood bushes, and to burn more cigarettes. He had not the slightest
hope of finding Ah Ben, as that individual never put in an appearance
until the day was far spent--in fact, not generally until after the
shadows of evening were well advanced; and the only servant he had
seen was the dumb boy alluded to, and even he had only appeared
occasionally. Clearly there was nothing to do but wait. But waiting
brought neither Dorothy nor Ah Ben, and Paul began to wonder
seriously where his hosts could have taken themselves. The time wore
on, and the shadow of a tall fir showed that the hour of noon had
passed. Had he been left in sole possession of this old mansion,
whose history was so amazing, and yet whose very existence appeared
mythical? He wandered back into the house, and passing through the
hall, stopped suddenly. His note was gone. Surely it had been taken,
for it could not have fallen. Examining the lamp, Henley saw that a
short end of the thread was hanging, indicating that it had been