iment soon."

"But hold on!" cried Verage, as if seized by a new thought; "I say,
now, what is all this questioning about?"

"Some of her sharp practice has come to my knowledge, and she has
made a little trouble for one of my friends. I want to know all that I
can about her, for it may be necessary to put a stop to her career."

With a renewed expression of his thanks for the information given,
Clarence bowed himself out of the old man's presence, with a sense of
relief at inhaling the fresh, pure air of the outer world. Then he
turned his steps homeward, assured that it had been a good day's work
well done.

CHAPTER XXVII.

CLAIRE TURNS CIRCE.

There was more to tell than to learn, when Clarence called, a day or
two later, at the villa.

The expert who had been dogging the steps of Lucian Davlin, had made
his report, it is true. But that report was a very unsatisfactory
affair:

A man, whom Clarence readily identified with the Professor, was an
almost constant visitor at the rooms of the Man of Luck, but they,
that is, the Professor and Davlin, were never seen on the street
together, nor, indeed, anywhere else. In short, Lucian Davlin had been
closely shadowed, but with no success to speak of. He came and went
just as such a man usually does. And no person that might be made to
answer for a doctor, had been visited by him or had visited him
unless, and this began to appear possible, the Professor himself was
the man.

After a long and serious discussion of the pros and cons of the case,
Olive and Clarence decided they would instruct the detective to
transfer his attentions to the Professor, only keeping a general
_surveillance_ over Davlin. They began to fear that they were watching
the wrong man.

Those were pleasant days to Doctor Vaughan; the days when he rode down
to the pretty villa to consult with Olive and to look at Claire.

And those were pleasant days to Claire as well. Once, and that not
long before, she had taken but little interest in Clarence Vaughan.
She had thought of him very much as had Madeline that first night of
their meeting, when she looked at him sitting near her in a railway
carriage, and regarded him as just a "somewhat odd young man with a
good face." Now, Madeline thought him not only the noblest but the
handsomest of men. And Claire was beginning to agree with her.

But on one thing she was determined. Doctor Vaughan must learn to look
upon her only as a friend, an