hat lay
beneath the feet of the mayor of Reuton at this minute? He hardly knew.

He was ready to descend at last, and came into the parlor of his suite
with greatcoat and hat. In reply to Mr. Cargan's unasked question, he
said:

"I'm going up the mountain presently to reason with our striking cook."

"You ain't going to leave this inn, Magee," said the mayor.

"Not even to bring back a cook. Come, Mr. Cargan, be reasonable. You may
go with me, if you suspect my motives."

They went out into the hall, and Mr. Magee passed down the corridor to
the farther end, where he rapped on the door of Miss Thornhill's room.
She appeared almost immediately, buried beneath furs and wraps.

"You must be nearly frozen," remarked Mr. Magee pityingly. "You and your
maid come down to the office. I want you to meet the other guests."

"I'll come," she replied. "Mr. Magee, I've a confession to make. I
invented the maid. It seemed so horribly unconventional and shocking--I
couldn't admit that I was alone. That was why I wouldn't let you build a
fire for me."

"Don't worry," smiled Magee. "You'll find we have all the conveniences
up here. I'll present you to a chaperon shortly--a Mrs. Norton, who is
here with her daughter. Allow me to introduce Mr. Cargan and Mr. Max."

The girl bowed with a rather startled air, and Mr. Cargan mumbled
something that had "pleasure" in it. In the office they found Professor
Bolton and Mr. Bland sitting gloomily before the fireplace.

"Got the news, Magee?" asked the haberdasher. "Peters has done a
disappearing act."

It was evident to Magee that everybody looked upon Peters as his
creature, and laid the hermit's sins at his door. He laughed.

"I'm going to head a search party shortly," he said. "Don't I detect the
odor of coffee in the distance?"

"Mrs. Norton," remarked Professor Bolton dolefully, "has kindly
consented to do what she can."

The girl of the station came through the dining-room door. It was
evident she had no share in the general gloom that the hermit's absence
cast over Baldpate. Her eyes were bright with the glories of morning on
a mountain; in their depths there was no room for petty annoyances.

"Good morning," she said to Mr. Magee. "Isn't it bracing? Have you been
outside? Oh, I--"

"Miss Norton--Miss Thornhill," explained Magee. "Miss Thornhill has the
sixth key, you know. She came last night without any of us knowing."

With lukewarm smiles the two girls shook hands. O