The moment the door had closed on them Dale sprang into action.
She seemed a different girl from the one who had left the room so
inconspicuously such a short time before. There were two bright
spots of color in her cheeks and she was obviously laboring under
great excitement. She went quickly to the alcove doors--they
opened softly--disclosing the young man who had said that he was
Brooks the new gardener--and yet not the same young man--for his
assumed air of servitude had dropped from him like a cloak,
revealing him as a young fellow at least of the same general social
class as Dale's if not a fellow-inhabitant of the select circle
where Van Gorders revolved about Van Gorders, and a man's
great-grandfather was more important than the man himself.

Dale cautioned him with a warning finger as he advanced into the
room.

"Sh! Sh!" she whispered. "Be careful! That man's a detective!"

Brooks gave a hunted glance at the door into the hall.

"Then they've traced me here," he said in a dejected voice.

"I don't think so."

He made a gesture of helplessness.

"I couldn't get back to my rooms," he said in a whisper. "If
they've searched them," he paused, "as they're sure to--they'll
find your letters to me." He paused again. "Your aunt doesn't