that disgraced home of mine? And still I pray and pray--"

Gard stood up. A sudden dizziness seized him. Go to her! Of course he
must, at once, at once; there was not a moment to be lost. He calculated
the length of time the letter had taken to reach him since its delivery
in the city--hours at least. And she had returned home to find--what? He
almost cried out in his anguish--to find Dorothy gone, no one at the
house knew where. What must she think?

He snatched up the telephone and called her number, his voice shaking in
spite of his effort to control it.

The butler answered. Yes; madam had returned suddenly; had gone to the
library for something; had asked for Miss Dorothy, and when she heard
she was away, had made no comment, and left shortly afterwards. Yes, she
appeared ill, very ill.

"I'm coming over," Gard cut in. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

He rang, ordered the servant to stop the first taxi, seized his coat and
hat, left a peremptory order to his physician not to be beyond call,
tumbled into his outer garments and made for the street. The taxi
sputtered at the curb, but just as he dashed down the steps a limousine
drew up, and Denning sprang from its opened door. His hand fell heavily
upon Gard's shoulder as he stooped to enter the cab. Gard turned, his
overwrought nerves stinging with the shock of the other's restraining
touch.

Denning's hand fell, for the face of his friend was distorted beyond
recognition. The words his lips had framed to speak died upon his