a man this time. It's more
exciting--being pursued by a man."

"Don't forget--no one is to look," warned Miss Smith as keeper of the
rules. "It would spoil the sport if you knew who'll be pursuing you
next."

Already she had stripped the blindfold from about Miss Ballister's head
and with a quick jerk at the master knot had freed her cousin from
bondage. With flirting motions she twisted the folded kerchief into a
rope. Practice in the work seemed to have given to her added deftness
and speed, for in no more time than it takes to tell of it she had drawn
Miss Ballister's smooth arms round behind their owner's back and was
busied at the next step of her offices. Almost it seemed the girl
surrendered reluctantly, as though she were loath to go through with the
role that had fallen to her by penalty of being tagged. But if Miss
Smith felt unwillingness in the sudden rebellious tensing of the limbs
she touched, the only response on her part was an added quickness in her
fingers as she placed one veined wrist upon the other and with double
wraps made them snugly fast.

"It hurts--it pinches! You've bound me too tightly," murmured the
prisoner, as involuntarily she strained against the pull of the
trussings.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," whispered Miss Smith. "I'll ease you in just a
second." But despite her promise she made no immediate move to do so.
Instead she concerned herself with lifting the collaret of bells off
over Mrs. Hadley-Smith's head and bestowing it upon the rounded
shoulders of the girl. As she brought the jingling harness down in its
place her hands lingered for one fleeting space where a heavy, quaint,
old-fashioned gold locket--an heirloom that might have come down from a
grandmother's days--was dangling from a gold chain that encircled the
girl's neck. Apparently she caught a finger in the chain and before she
could free it she had given a sharp tug at the chain, thereby lifting
the locket from where it rested against the white flesh of its wearer's
throat.

"I--I'm afraid I can't play," Miss Ballister almost gasped out the
words; then drawing in her breath with a sharp catch: "This room--it's
so warm. I feel a bit faint, really I do. Please untie me. I shan't be
able to go on." Her voice, though pitched still in a low key, was
sharpened with a nervous entreaty.

"I will of course if you really do feel badly," said Miss Smith. Then an
inspiration seemed to come to her. Her eyes sparkled.

"Oh," she said