her in the
dark about something. But it helped George to forget, and so I counted
it in with the rest of the day's work and held my peace.

"As for the rest, there was nothing to be done except to keep a couple
of 'shadows' on Balencourt, and we had a full account of his movements
by eight o'clock every night--a regular ship's chart worked out with
time-stamps and neat entries in red ink, after the accustomed fashion
of Central Office men. So May and the first two weeks in June dragged
uneventfully along; the period of stress was already half over. Then
came Monday, the 15th of June, and with it a little shock. Our man--I
mean Balencourt--concluded to disappear, and he did it as effectually
as though there were no such thing as a 'shadow' in existence. When the
head-sleuth came that night to report his discomfiture, I cut him short
in his theorizing and asked for the facts. But there was only the
one--Balencourt was certainly non est, and that was all there was to
say. Whereupon we banished the 'shadows' to the outer darkness whence
they had come and convened our original council of war.

"One thing was plain--the danger of remaining longer in the city. There
are so many things that may happen in a crowd, and especially if our
friend Balencourt formed part of that unknown quantity. There is always
a chance of a chimney-pot tumbling about one's ears or of being run
down by some reckless chauffeur. And who is to know the truth?
Accidents will happen; they are wilful things and insist upon keeping
themselves in evidence. Imprimis, then, to get out of town. But where?

"'Hoodman's Ledge,' began Crawfurd, a little doubtfully, but I caught
him up with joyful decision.

"'The very thing,' I said. 'I'll send a wire to the caretaker to-night,
and we'll be off by Thursday. I invite you all--for six weeks. Why, of
course, George, that includes Betty and her mother; they were to come
to me, anyway, in July.'

"Now, Hoodman's Ledge is one of the innumerable small islands that dot
the Maine coast above Portland. A few years ago the fancy had taken me
to buy the island--it was only three acres in area--and later on I had
put up a house, nothing very elegant, but everything for comfort, a
model bachelor's establishment. For our present need no better asylum
could have offered. The island was small and occupied only by my own
domestic establishment. It lay in the bight of Oliver's Bay, quite a
mile from the nearest shore, and ther