think we may take up this matter for you, Mr. Gatewood," he said,
smiling his singularly agreeable smile.

"But--but you would first desire to know something about me--would you
not?"

Keen looked at him: "You will not mistake me--you will consider it
entirely inoffensive--if I say that I know something about you, Mr.
Gatewood?"

"About _me_? How can you? Of course, there is the social register and
the club lists and all that--"

"And many, many sources of information which are necessary in such a
business as this, Mr. Gatewood. It is a necessity for us to be almost
as well informed as our clients' own lawyers. I could pay you no
sincerer compliment than to undertake your case. I am half inclined to
do so even _without_ a retainer. Mind, I haven't yet said that I _will_
take it."

"I prefer to regulate any possible indebtedness in advance," said
Gatewood.

"As you wish," replied the older man, smiling. "In that case, suppose
you draw your check" (he handed Gatewood a fountain pen as the young man
fished a check-book from his pocket)--"your check for--well, say for
$5,000, to the order of Keen & Co."

Gatewood met his eye without wincing; he was in for it now; and he was
always perfectly game. He had brought it upon himself; it was his own
proposition. Not that he would have for a moment considered the sum as
high--or any sum exorbitant--if there had been a chance of success; one
cannot compare and weigh such matters. But how could there be any chance
for success?

As he slowly smoothed out the check and stub, pen poised, Keen was
saying: "Of course, we should succeed sooner or later--if we took up
your case. We might succeed to-morrow--to-day. That would mean a large
profit for us. But we might not succeed to-day, or next month, or even
next year. That would leave us little or no profit; and, as it is our
custom to go on until we do succeed, no matter how long it may require,
you see, Mr. Gatewood, I should be taking all sorts of chances. It might
even cost us double your retainer before we found her--"

"Her? How did--_why_ do you say '_her_'?"

"Am I wrong?" asked Keen, smiling.

"No--you are right."

The Tracer of Lost Persons sank into abstraction again. Gatewood waited,
hoping that his case might be declined, yet ready to face any music
started at his own request.

"She is young," mused Keen aloud, "very beautiful and accomplished. _Is_
she wealthy?" He looked up mildly.

Gatewood said: "I don'