gh it to the surprise of the proprietor, and found myself in an
alley. I took this in double-quick time and presently had lost myself in
the hurrying crowds on Kearney Street. Five minutes later I was in the
elevator on the way to our office.

I set to work resolutely, but my drifting thoughts went back to the
military man with the frogged coat, to the distractingly pretty girl who
did not want him to have the map, and to that spit of land lapped by
Pacific waves in a latitude and longitude that shall be nameless for
reasons that will hereafter appear.

It must have been fifteen minutes after my return that our office boy,
Jimmie, came in to tell me that a lady wanted to see me.

"She's a peach, too," he volunteered with the genial impudence that
characterized him.

This brought me back to earth, a lawyer instead of a treasure seeker,
and when my first client crossed the threshold she found me deep in a
volume on contracts, eight other large and bulky reference books piled
on the table.

The name on the card Jimmie had handed me was Miss Evelyn Wallace. I
rose at once to meet her.

"You are Mr. John Sedgwick?" asked a soft, Southern voice that fell on
my ears like music.

"I am."

My bow stopped abruptly. I stifled an exclamation. The young woman was
the one I had seen framed in a second-story window some hours earlier.

"I think you know me by sight," she said, not smiling exactly, but
little dimples lurking in her cheeks ready to pounce out at the first
opportunity. "That is, unless you have forgotten?"

Forgotten! I might have told her it would be hard to forget that
piquant, oval face of exquisite coloring, and those blue eyes in which
the sunshine danced like gold. I might have, but I did not. Instead, I
murmured that my memory served me well enough.

"I have come for the paper you were good enough to take care of for me,
Mr. Sedgwick. It belongs to me--the paper you picked up this morning."

From my pocket I took the document and handed it to her.

"May I ask how you found out who I was, Miss Wallace?"

You might have thought that roses had brushed her cheeks and left their
color there.

"I asked a policeman," she confessed, just a little embarrassed.

"To find you a man in a gray ulster, medium height, weight, and
complexion," I laughed.

"I had seen you come from the Graymount once or twice, and by describing
you to the landlady he discovered who you were and where you worked,"
she explaine