ded
in me. Now I see why she took her jewellery. Maybe she needed money. If
we'd been at home, we'd have made her stay with us. Do you know, I
shouldn't wonder if she'd gone to the Chateau Lontana?"

"I thought of that," Vanno said, "but she didn't want to live in
Hannaford's house."

"With you! But now she's alone and sad, poor child. If we could only be
sure, you could telegraph, not to waste time. I'll tell you what! If she
went there, she probably drove instead of taking a train. Wait a minute,
while I ask the hunchbacked beggar if he saw her. They were great chums;
and it was talking to him I came across her first."

Rose began running to the bridge, where the dwarf, in his shady hat and
comfortable cloak, was engaged in eating his luncheon on a newspaper,
kept down on the parapet with stones. Vanno and Peter followed quickly,
but before they arrived Rose had extracted the desired information. "He
did see Mary three nights ago, in a carriage, driving in the direction
of Italy," she announced in triumph. "He was just starting for home.
What a good thing he hadn't gone!"

"There was another lady in the carriage with my Mademoiselle," added the
beggar in bad French, his mouth full of bread and cheese.

"Another lady!" Rose echoed. "Who could it have been?"

"A dark lady, young but not a girl," the hunchback cheerfully went on.
"She looked out at me, then threw herself back as if she did not want me
to see who she was. Perhaps because she did not wish to spare me a
penny, and was ashamed. Some people are stingy."

"Did you know the lady's face?"

"No, I never saw it before that I can remember. It was not a sweet face
like Mademoiselle's. That lady would laugh while a beggar starved. I
always know at the first look. I have trained myself to judge. It is my
metier."

He spoke with pride, but no one was listening.

"A dark woman," Vanno repeated. "What has become of the Dauntreys? Do
you know, Mrs. Winter?"

"I heard yesterday that they'd disappeared, owing every one money."

"Miss Maxwell, will you let me go now at once to Italy in your car?"
Vanno asked.

"Yes," Peter said. "It's not my car, but it belongs to my best friend.
He and I will both be glad, but you must take me with you."

Rose looked wistful, but she did not ask to go. The others were not
thinking of her.

"Do you know the Chateau Lontana?" she inquired of Schuyler's chauffeur.
"And have you got your papers for Italy?"

The man, who was