she came down to the street again she was startled by almost running
into Mr. Grimes, who was passing the house.

"What! what! what!" he snapped, staring at her. "What brings you down in
_this_ neighborhood? A nice place for Mr. Willets Starkweather's niece to
be seen in. I warrant he doesn't know where you are?"

"You are quite right, Mr. Grimes," Helen returned, quietly.

"What are you doing here?" asked Grimes, rather rudely.

"Visiting friends," replied Helen, without further explanation.

"You're still trying to rake up that old trouble of your father's?"
demanded Grimes, scowling.

"Not down here," returned Helen, with a quiet smile. "That is sure. But I
_am_ doing what I can to learn all the particulars of the affair. Mr. Van
Ramsden was a creditor and father's friend, and his daughter tells me that
_he_ will do all in his power to help me."

"Ha! Van Ramsden! Well, it's little you'll ever find out through _him_.
Well! you'd much better have let me do as I suggested and cleared up the
whole story in the newspapers," growled Grimes. "Now, now! Where's that
clerk of mine, I wonder? He was to meet me here."

And he went muttering along the walk; but Helen stood still and gazed
after him in some bewilderment. For it dawned on the girl that the man who
had passed her as she went up to see old Mr. Lurcher, or "Jones," was
Leggett, Fenwick Grimes's confidential man.

CHAPTER XXVI

THEIR EYES ARE OPENED

As her cousins were not at all interested in what became of Helen during
the day, neither was Helen interested in how the three Starkweather girls
occupied their time. But on this particular afternoon, while Helen was
visiting Lurcher, and chatting with Sadie Goronsky on the sidewalk in
front of the Finkelstein shop, she would have been deeply interested in
what interested the Starkweather girls.

All three chanced to be in the drawing-room when Gregson came past the
door in his stiffest manner, holding the tray with a single card on it.

"Who is it, Gregson?" asked Belle. "I heard the bell ring. Somebody to see
me?"

"No, mem, it his not," declared the footman.

"Me?" said Hortense, holding out her hand. "Who is it, I wonder?"

"Nor is hit for you, mem," repeated Gregson.

"It can't be for _me_?" cried Flossie.

But before the footman could speak again, Belle rose majestically and
crossed the room.

"I believe I know what it is," she said, angrily. "And it is going to
stop. You were going