serene upon the scene just enacted, as it had doubtless gazed upon many
another as strange.

"Father!" exclaimed the boy, and as he came within the ring of light,
his face showed pale and anxious.

Gard did not give him time for a reply. "Good evening," he said. "I have
been admiring the Vandyke. A wonderful canvas, and one thing that your
father may well be proud of."

At the sound of the voice the young man turned and advanced with an
exclamation of welcome. "Mr. Gard, the very one I most wanted to see.
Tell me--what is the matter? Where has Dorothy gone? I've been to the
house, and either they don't know or they won't tell me. She didn't let
me know. I can't understand it. For heaven's sake, tell me! Nothing is
wrong, is there?"

"Why, of course, you should know, Teddy." For the first time he used the
familiar term. "I quite forgot about you young people. You see, Dorothy
received threatening letters from some crank, and as we weren't sure
what might occur I sent her off. _Mahr, shall I tell your son?_"

He turned to where the limp figure showed huddled in the depths of red
upholstery. There was a question and a threat in the measured words.

"Of course, tell him Miss Marteen's address," and in that answer there
was a prayer.

"Then here." Gard wrote a few words on his card and gave it into the
boy's eager hand. "Run up and see her. She's with her aunt. I can bring