little round-topped casket, embossed and inlaid. Sliding her finger
along the inner frame of the safe, she felt a knob, and pressed it. One
side of the receptacle clicked open, revealing an inner compartment.

Then panic seized her. She could never recall shutting the safe door and
replacing the panel, the movements were automatic. She was out of the
library and running down the corridor before she realized it. Once more
in the sanctuary of her own room, she threw herself upon the bed, buried
her face in the tumbled pillow and gasped for breath.

"What shall I do!--what shall I do!" she moaned aloud. "I'm afraid--Oh,
I'm afraid!" like a little child crying in the night in the awful
isolation of an empty house. Suddenly she sat up. The tears dried upon
her curved lashes. Of course, of course--Mr. Gard, her friend, her
mother's friend. The very thought of him steadied her. The terrified
child of her untried self, vanished before the coming of a new and
active womanhood. She thought quickly and clearly. "He would be at his
office," she reasoned. "He had mentioned an important meeting. She would
go there at once--cancelling her luncheon engagement on the ground of
some simple ailment. Tante Lydia must not know. Once let Gard, with his
master grip, control the situation, and she would feel safe as in a
walled castle strongly defended. A tower of strength--a tower of
strength." She repeated the words to herself as if they were a talisman.
She felt as if, from afar, her mother had counseled her. She would go to
him. It was the right thing, the only thing to do.

* * * * *