Gatewood, more excited and uncomfortable than he had ever been in all
his life, watched Keen intently.

"Too bad, too bad," muttered the Tracer to himself. "The child needs the
encouragement. It meant a thousand dollars to her--" He shrugged his
shoulders, looked up, and, as though rather surprised to see Gatewood
still there, smiled an impersonal smile and offered his hand in adieu.
Gatewood winced.

"Could I--I see Miss Southerland?" he asked.

"I am afraid not. She is at this moment following my instructions
to--but that cannot interest you now--"

"Yes, it does!--if you don't mind. Where is she? I--I'll take a look at
the person she discovered; I will, really."

"Why, it's only this: I suspected that you might identify a person whom
I had reason to believe was to be found every morning riding in the
Park. So Miss Southerland has been riding there every day. Yesterday she
came here, greatly excited--"

"Yes--yes--go on!"

Keen gazed dreamily at the sunny window. "She thought she had found
your--er--the person. So I said you would meet her on the bridle path,
near--but that's of no interest now--"

"Near where?" demanded Gatewood, suppressing inexplicable excitement.