he might have given had Mrs. de Lancey not been the aunt of the
girl who had entered his life.

Then he caught himself and said hastily, "I don't care what she
thinks. It's none of her---"

He cut the words short, as if fearing to be misinterpreted either
way.

For several squares he plodded along silently, then, as we had
accomplished the object of the evening, excused himself, with the
request that we keep him fully informed of every incident in the
case.

"Warrington doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve," commented
Garrick as we bent our steps to our own, or rather his, apartment,
"but it is evident enough that he is thinking all the time of
Violet Winslow."




CHAPTER VII

THE MOTOR BANDIT


Early the next morning, the telephone bell began to ring
violently. The message must have been short, for I could not
gather from Garrick's reply what it was about, although I could