ing let into the floor from the cellar. This latter I
was enabled to reach by means of a trap-door concealed under the rug in
the open part of this same building."

"I--I am all confused. Say that again," she pleaded, starting once more
to her feet, but this time without meeting my eyes. "In the disused part
of the bungalow? How came you there? No one ever goes there--it is a
forbidden place."

"The child has been there--and lately."

"Oh!" her fingers began to tremble and twist themselves together. "You
have something more than this to tell me. Gwendolen has been found
and--" her looks became uncertain and wandered, as I thought, toward the
river.

"She has not been found, but the woman who carried her into that place
will soon be discovered."

"How? Why?"

I had risen by this time and could answer her on a level and face to
face.

"Because the trail of her steps leads straight along the cellar floor.
We have but to measure these footprints."

"And what?--what?"

"We find the abductor."

A silence, during which one long breath issued from her lips.

"Was it a man's or woman's steps?" she finally asked.

"A woman's, daintily shod; a woman of about the size of--"

"Who? Why do you play with my anguish?"

"Because I hate to mention the name of a friend."

"Ah! What do you know of my friends?"

"Not much. I happened to meet one of them, and as she is a very fine
woman with exquisitely shod feet, I naturally think of her."

"What do you mean?" Her hand was on my arm, her face close to mine.
"Speak! speak! the name!"

"Mrs. Carew."

I had purposely refrained up to this moment from bringing this lady,
even by a hint, into the conversation. I did it now under an inner
protest. But I had not dared to leave it out. The footprints I alluded
to were startlingly like those left by her in other parts of the cellar
floor; besides, I felt it my duty to see how Mrs. Ocumpaugh bore this
name, notwithstanding my almost completely restored confidence in its
owner.

She did not bear it well. She flushed and turned quickly from my side,
walking away to the window, where she again took up her stand.

"You would have shown better taste by not following your first impulse,"
she remarked. "Mrs. Carew's footsteps in that old cellar! You presume,
sir, and make me lose confidence in your judgment."

"Not at all. Mrs. Carew's feet have been all over that cellar floor. She
accompanied me through it last night, at the ti