destroyed all evidence."

"Then everything seems to depend on this Brower," she said, knitting her
brows anxiously. "Where is he?"

I did not answer this last question. My eyes were riveted on the door
knob which was slowly, almost imperceptibly, turning. Cortinez continued
to breathe heavily in sleep outside. The intruder was evidently at great
pains not to awaken the guard. A fraction of an inch at a time the door
opened. A wild-haired, wild-eyed head inserted itself cautiously through
the crack. The girl's eyes widened in surprise and, I imagine, a little
in fear. I began to laugh, silently, so as not to disturb Cortinez.
Mirth overcame me; the tears ran down my cheeks.

"It's so darn complete!" I gasped, answering the girl's horrified look
of inquiry. "Miss Emory, allow me to present Mr. Artie Brower!"




CHAPTER XII


Brower entered the room quickly but very quietly, and at once came to
me. His eyes were staring, his eyelids twitched, his hands shook. I
recognized the symptoms.

"Have you got it? Have you got it with you?" he whispered, feverishly.

"It's all right. I can fix you up. Untie me first," I replied.