All David could do was to close the window and regret that his
impetuosity had not been more judiciously restrained.

"Now, what particular thing was he after?" he asked himself. "But I had
better defer any further speculations on the matter till the morning.
After the fright he had my friend won't come back again. And I'm just as
tired as a dog."

But there were other things the next day to occupy David's attention
besides the visit of his nocturnal friend. He had found out enough the
previous evening to encourage him to go farther. And surely Miss Ruth
Gates could not refuse to give him further information.

He started out to call at 219, Brunswick Square, as soon as he deemed it
excusable to do so. Miss Gates was out, the solemn butler said, but she
might be found in the square gardens. David came upon her presently with
a book in her lap and herself under a shady tree. She was not reading,
her eyes were far away. As she gave David a warm greeting there was a
tender bloom on her lovely face.

"Oh, yes, I got home quite right," she said. "No suspicion was aroused at
all. And you?"

"I had a night thrilling enough for yellow covers, as Artemus Ward says.
I came here this morning to throw myself on your mercy, Miss Gates. Were
I disposed to do so, I have information enough to force your hand. But I
prefer to hear everything from your lips."

"Did Enid tell you anything?" Ruth faltered.