doorstep, your little girl
with the fair hair will be buried very deep and fast--I think she
would not be the first woman bricked into those black walls.... You
must go about this yourself.... You are in love with her--yes?" she
added impertinently, with keen, uptilted eyes.

"That's another story," Billy curtly informed her. He made no
attempt to analyze his feeling for Arlee Beecher. She had enchanted
him in those two days that he had known her. She had obsessed his
thoughts in those two days of her disappearance. Now that he was
aware of her peril every selfish thought was overwhelmed in burning
indignation. He told himself that he would do as much for any girl
in her situation, and, indeed, so hot ran his rage and so dearly did
his young blood love rash adventure and high-handed justice, that
there was some honest excuse for the statement!

"Zut! A man does not risk his neck for a matter of indifference!"
said the little Baroff sagely, her knowing eyes on Billy's grim
young face. "So I am to be the sister to you--the Platonic
friend--h'm?" she observed with droll resignation. "Never mind--I
will help you get her out as you got me--_Gott sei dank!_ There is a
way, I think--if you are not too particular about that neck. I will
tell you all and draw you a plan when we get to a hotel."

But before they got to a hotel there was an obstacle or two to be
overcome. A lady in Mohammedan wraps might not be exactly _persona
grata_ at fashionable hotels at midnight. Casting off the wrap
Fritzi revealed herself in a little pongee frock that appeared to be
suitable for traveling, and with two veils and Billy's cap for a
foundation she produced an effect of headgear not unlike that of
some bedraped tourists.

"I arrived on the night train," she stated as they drew up before
the shining hotel. "It is late now for that night train--but we
waited for my luggage, which you will observe is lost. So I pay for
my room in the advance--I think you had better give me some money
for that--I have nothing but these," and she indicated her flashing
diamonds.

"My name," said Billy, handing over some sovereigns with the first
ray of humor since her revelation to him, "my name, if you should
care to address me, is Hill--William B. Hill."

"William B. Hill," she echoed with an air of elaborate precision,
and then flashed a saucy smile at him as he helped her out of the
carriage. "What you call Billy, eh?"

"You've got it," he replied in