he
novelty of her position kept her alert in a way. It is true she was too
tired and bewildered to think clearly, but slight details were
impressing themselves upon her dimly. "This room, for instance--"

"Of course, _ma chere_, a young lady has lived here. She has left some
odd pieces of wardrobe behind her, at times, in going away. When you
waken we will try to find a house-dress to replace your evening-gown.
Will ma'm'selle indulge in the bath before retiring?"

"Not to-night, Madame Cerise. I'm too tired for anything but--sleep!"

Indeed, she had no sooner crawled into the enticing bed than she sank
into unconscious forgetfulness. This was to an extent fortunate. Louise
possessed one of those dispositions cheery and equable under ordinary
circumstances, but easily crushed into apathy by any sudden adversity.
She would not suffer so much as a more excitable and nervous girl might
do under similar circumstances.

Her sleep, following the severe strain of the night's adventure, did
little to refresh her. She awoke in broad daylight to hear a cold wind
whistling shrilly outside and raindrops beating against the panes.

Madame Cerise had not slept much during the night. For an hour after
Louise retired she sat in her room in deep thought. Then she went to the
telephone and notwithstanding the late hour called up Diana, who had a
branch telephone on a table at her bedside.

Miss Von Taer was not asleep. She had had an exciting night herself. She
answered the old caretaker readily and it did not surprise her to learn
that the missing girl had been taken to the East Orange house by the
orders of Charlie Mershone. She enquired how Louise had accepted the
situation forced upon her, and was shocked and rendered uncomfortable by
the too plainly worded protest of the old Frenchwoman. Madame Cerise did
not hesitate to denounce the abduction as a heartless crime, and in her
communication with Diana swore she would protect the innocent girl from
harm at the hands of Mershone or anyone else.

"I have ever to your family been loyal and true, Ma'm'selle Diana," said
she, "but I will not become the instrument of an abominable crime at
your command or that of your wicked cousin. I will keep the girl here in
safety, if it is your wish; but she will be safe, indeed, as long as
Cerise guards her."

"That's right, Madame," stammered Diana, hardly knowing at the moment
what to say. "Be discreet and silent until you hear from me again