t know--the truth is I don't care--" And stopped.

"O-ho!" mused Keen slowly. "I--think--I understand. Am I wrong, Mr.
Gatewood, in surmising that this young lady whom you seek is, in your
eyes, very--I may say ideally gifted?"

"She is my ideal," replied the young man, coloring.

"_Ex_actly. And--her general allure?"

"Charming!"

"_Ex_actly; but to be a trifle more precise--if you could give me a
sketch, an idea, a mere outline delicately tinted, now. _Is_ she more
blond than brunette?"

"Yes--but her eyes are brown. I--I insist on that."

"Why should you not? _You_ know her; I don't," said Keen, laughing. "I
merely wished to form a mental picture. . . . You say her hair is--is--"

"It's full of sunny color; that's all I can say."

"_Ex_actly--I see. A rare and lovely combination with brown eyes and
creamy skin, Mr. Gatewood. I fancy she might be, perhaps, an inch or two
under your height?"

"Just about that. Her hands should be--_are_ beautiful--"

"_Ex_actly. The ensemble is most vividly portrayed, Mr. Gatewood;
and--you have intimated that her lack of fortune--er--we might almost
say her pecuniary distress--is more than compensated for by her
accomplishments, character, and very unusual beauty. . . . _Did_ I so
understand you, Mr. Gatewood?"

"That's what I meant, anyhow," he said, flushing up.

"You _did_ mean it?"

"I did: I do."

"Then we take your case, Mr. Gatewood. . . . No haste about the check,
my dear sir--pray consider us at your service."

But Gatewood doggedly filled in the check and handed it to the Tracer of
Lost Persons.

"I wish you happiness," said the older man in a low voice. "The lady you
describe exists; it is for us to discover her."

"Thank you," stammered Gatewood, astounded.

Keen touched an electric button; a moment later a young girl entered the
room.

"Miss Southerland, Mr. Gatewood. Will you be kind enough to take Mr.
Gatewood's dictation in Room 19?"

For a second Gatewood stared--as though in the young girl before him the
ghost of his ideal had risen to confront him--only for a second; then he
bowed, matching her perfect acknowledgment of his presence by a bearing
and courtesy which must have been inbred to be so faultless.

And he followed her to Room 19.

What had Keen meant by saying, "The lady you describe exists!" Did this
remarkable elderly gentleman suspect that it was to be a hunt for an
ideal? Had he deliberately entered into such a bargain? Impo