ind out what kind of live stock you deal in, Mr. Druce."

"Forget it!"

"Are you ashamed to tell me?"

Druce turned on the girl as though stung.

"Why should I be ashamed?" he blustered. He moved toward the door.

"I'll know that," replied Miss Masters, "when you tell me what kind of
live stock you deal in."

There was a stern quality in Miss Masters' voice that Druce had noticed
in the voice of a district attorney with whom he had once had an
unpleasant interview. The man was a coward. He wanted to be off.

"Every kind," he blurted. "Good day."

A moment later he found himself in the hallway. "Red," the office boy,
had just come from the elevator.

"What's the trouble, Druce?" demanded the boy. "You look pale around the
gills."

"You go to hell, you little rat," retorted Druce, and without waiting for
the elevator vanished down the steps, with the jeering laughter of the
boy ringing in his ears.

CHAPTER XV

THE SEARCH BEGINS FOR THE LOST SISTER

There was nothing in Miss Masters' manner after Druce had made his hasty
departure to indicate that she felt any thrills of triumph over the
completeness of the dive keeper's rout. On the contrary she seemed
unaccountably depressed. She sat down at her typewriter thinking deeply.
Presently her meditations were disturbed.

The door opened quietly. A man entered who, in spite of the shabbiness of
his clothing, his emaciation and the haggardness of his features the
reader would have had no difficulty in recognizing. He was Harvey
Spencer. He stood in the open door looking at the girl uncertainly. She
took him in in a glance.

"Good morning," she said sympathetically. "You are looking for someone
here?"

"I was," replied Harvey enigmatically, "but he's gone."

"Gone?" repeated the girl.

"Yes," replied the caller quickly, "perhaps you can give me some
information. That man, who stepped in here a moment ago--you know who he
is?"

"Yes," replied the girl, "his name is Martin Druce."

"That's his name, yes--what's his business?"

"Live stock, he says," replied Miss Masters in some surprise.

"You know where he lives?"

"No. Won't you sit down?"

"I can't. I'm following him."

The girl was bewildered. "Are you a detective?" she inquired.

The question produced an extraordinary effect on the young man. He threw
up his head and gave vent to a short, sharp exclamation.

"Ha!" he said. "No," he we