Wayne had never so much as mentioned her name to her.

"Wait a minute," cried Dart, jerking his horse up short before they had
gone fifty yards from the house. "I forgot my gloves."

He shoved the reins into his companion's hands, jumped down and running
back burst in bright faced and eager upon Wanda, startling her with the
sudden unexpectedness of his return. With his finger upon his lips,
his air surcharged with mystery, he came close to her.

"Have you wised up?" he whispered. "Got next to who the mysterious
fairy is?"

"She's Miss Claire Hazleton," said Wanda a little stiffly and a bit
puzzled.

"Rats!" grunted Mr. Dart putting much eloquence Into the monosyllable.
"That's a bum monniker out of a French love story. It's the Roosian
princess. It's Helga, that's who it is!"

He slipped a little engraved calling card into her hand, winked into
her amazed eyes, drew a pair of gloves out of his hip pocket, crumpled
them in his hand and hastened back to the cart.

Wanda stared a moment at the card. Then she flung it from her and with
blazing eyes watched the flames in the fireplace lick at it.

CHAPTER XVII

"WHERE'S THAT TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND? WHAT'S THE ANSWER?"

The little clock in Wayne Shandon's room maintained stoutly in the face
of the gathering gloom outside, in defiance of the lighted lamp upon
the table, that it was still an hour before sunset. The snow was still
falling steadily, thickly, swept here and there into shifting mounds,
choking the mountain passes, robing trees and fence posts and
buildings, each feathery flake adhering where it struck softly as
though it had been a gummed wafer.

"Garth and I will have to get out to-morrow," Shandon muttered, drawing
off his heavy coat and tossing it to the chair across the room, "or
we'll have to beat it out on snowshoes--I wonder what's keeping Dart?"

There came a rap at the front door and Shandon, supposing that already
his question was answered, called, "Come in."

"You never can tell what that little devil will do next," he grunted.
"Snoop into a man's private business every time he gets the chance and
then stand outside knocking at the door in a day like this. _Come in_."

Then, when the knocking came again, louder, insistent and imperative,
he realised that there was the bare possibility that the thumb latch
had caught and, crossing the room he jerked the door open.

"Is this Mr. Shandon?"

The cool, confident voice though