d a pin like this? Is this her's?" and he
unfolded the dollar bill and held out the blouse pin for inspection.

"Sure, that's her's. She told me she lost one from her best
hand-painted set in your canoe that night."

Kendrick sat down in the nearest chair and laughed as if Stiles had
said something which was exceedingly witty. The outburst was so
spontaneous and unaccountable that the bookkeeper stared at him. He
could not know that Phil would laugh with equal abandon just then if
somebody were to inform him that the real reason a hen crosses the road
is to get to the other side.

"She seems to have taken you pretty well into her confidence, Jimmy.
Perhaps you can tell me who her escort was that night of the fog--a Joe
Somebody."

"Oh, that was me. I paddled her across the bay that night. We agreed
to call each other by fake names in case anybody heard us talking.
When she got into your canoe by mistake I was only about ten yards
away, but I was scared to move. I knew she could take care of herself."

Again Phil laughed. But Stiles was growing impatient and his worried
look returned.

"Say, never mind all that, Mr. Kendrick, please. We've got to do
something about this other thing right away quick. Nickleby's been
havin' Podmore watched an' he had a seance yesterday afternoon with the
fellow that's doing it. There's liable to be others setting out with
the same idea she had----"

"What do you mean?" demanded Kendrick, seriously.

"Miss Lawson took the train west last night to get that darn envelope
you hid in the stump in the woods----"

"Good heavens!"

"I told her she oughtn't to try it," went on Stiles earnestly. "She's
liable to run into all sorts of trouble. But she wouldn't listen to me
for a minute. She aint scared of anything, Miss Lawson aint, an' she
thinks it's real money she's rescuing all by her lonesome."

"You don't mean to say she went all _alone_?" asked Phil in dismay.

"That's just it. She wouldn't have it any other way."

They gazed at each other with sober faces.

CHAPTER XIV

WHAT HAPPENED ON THE WINNIPEG EXPRESS

Thirty-six hours later Kendrick, aboard the Winnipeg Express, was
rushing westward through the night. His watch told him that the hour
was near midnight and in the open timetable beside him he was tracing
the train's progress. Outside in the dark the great scenic sweep of
northern wilderness was fleeing behind, mile on mile. He figured that
the