ef was done.

"Yes; Charlotte's father," was the calm reply. Then: "Where did you meet
Miss Farnham?"

"I haven't met her," he protested instantly; "she--she doesn't know me
from Adam. But I have seen her, and I happened to learn her name and her
home address."

Miss Margery's pretty face took on an expression of polite disinterest,
but behind the mask the active brain was busily fitting the pegs of
deduction into their proper holes. Her involuntary guest did not know
the father; therefore he must have seen the daughter while she was away
from home. Charlotte Farnham had been South, at Pass Christian, and
doubtless in New Orleans. The convalescent had also been in New Orleans,
as his money packet with its Bayou State Security labels sufficiently
testified.

Miss Grierson got up to draw one of the window shades. It had become
imperative that she should have time to think and an excuse for hiding
her face from the eyes which seemed to be trying masterfully to read her
inmost thoughts.

"You think it is strange that I should know Miss Farnham's name and
address without having met her?" Griswold asked, when the pause had
become a keen agony.

Miss Grierson's rejoinder was flippant. "Oh, no; she is pretty enough to
account for a stranger thing than that."

"She is more than pretty," said Griswold, impulsively; "she has the
beauty of those who have high ideals, and live up to them."

"I thought you said you didn't know her," was the swift retort.

"I said I hadn't met her, and that she doesn't know me."

"Oh," said the small fitter of deduction pegs; and afterward she talked,
and made the convalescent talk, pointedly of other things.

This occurred in the forenoon of a pleasant day in May. In the afternoon
of the same day, Miss Grierson's trap was halted before the door of the
temporary quarters of the Wahaska Public Library. Raymer saw the trap
and crossed the street, remembering--what he would otherwise have
forgotten--that his sister had asked him to get a book on orchids.

Miss Margery was in the reference room, wading absently through the
newspaper files. She nodded brightly when Raymer entered--and was not in
the least dust-blinded by the library card in his hand.

"You are just in time to help me," she told him. "Do you remember the
story of that daring bank robbery in New Orleans a few weeks ago?--the
one in which a man made the president draw a check and get it cashed for
him?"

Raymer did remember