rm, and he led her
back to the car. "You'll do as you please in the end, I suppose, but not
here or now." He handed her up the steps of the private car and turned
to go away.

"Papa--one word," she pleaded. "Won't you see Mr. Brockway to-night?"

"No; and if I do, it will be the worse for him." And when she had
entered the car, he went away quickly and climbed the stairs to the
train-despatcher's office on the second floor of the Union Depot.

Meanwhile, Brockway had eaten his supper and posted himself where he
could watch what he supposed to be the window of Gertrude's stateroom
for the promised signal. He saw the car empty itself, first of Fleetwell
and the ladies, and then of the President and his daughter, and while he
was waiting for the latter to return, Fleetwell came back, breathless.

"By Jove, Mr. Brockway, this is great luck!" he exclaimed. "You know
Denver pretty well, don't you?"

"Fairly well. I knew it better when I lived here."

"Do you happen to know this gentleman?" handing Brockway a card with a
name written across it.

"Yes; very well, indeed."

"Then I wish you'd come and help me find him. I've been out in a cab
once, and the driver got lost. Will you do it?"

"With pleasure, if you'll get me back here quick. I have an engagement
that can't be put off."

They ran out through the building and took a carriage. "Just get me to
the house," said the collegian, "and you can come straight away back in
the cab," but beyond this he offered no explanations, and Brockway gave
the order to the driver.

When they reached the house in question, Fleetwell rang the bell, and
the answer from within seemed to be satisfactory. "All right," he called
back from the doorway; and a few minutes later Brockway was again on the
station platform, watching the non-committal windows of the private car.

It was while the passenger agent was up-town with Fleetwell that
President Vennor went to the despatcher's room. The result of his visit
may be told in the words of a terse order which presently clicked
through the sounder in the yardmaster's office.

"J. H. M.,

"Denver Yard.

"Send out Car Naught-fifty, President Vennor and party, on
Number 103, ten-five this P.M.

"A. F. V."

Of this Brockway knew nothing, and he haunted the vicinity of the
spur-track with great patience for the better part of two hours. At
nine-forty-five, Fleetwell and the ladies returned. They were all
laughi