pact, a voice cried out demanding admittance.

"Who is it, then?" she called shrilly.

"Open the door, confound you!" was the irritated reply.

The woman reflected. This was surely young Mershone's voice. And she had
no excuse to deny him admittance. Quietly she unbolted the door and
allowed it to open an inch while she peered at the man outside.

"Oh! it is Monsieur Mershone."

"Of course it is," he roared, forcing the door open and stalking in.
"Who in thunder did you think it was?"

"A thousand pardons, m'sieur," said Cerise. "I must be cautious; it is
your own command. That you may be protected I deny admittance to all."

"That's all right," said Mershone gruffly, while he stamped his feet
upon the rug and shook the snow from his clothing. "Haven't you any fire
in this beastly old refrigerator? I'm nearly frozen. Where's Miss
Merrick?"

"She is occupying Ma'm'selle Diana's room, in the west wing. Will
monsieur please to come this way?"

She led him to her own little room, and so engrossed were they that
neither remembered he had failed to rebolt the front door.

A good fire burned in the grate of Cerise's cosy den and Mershone threw
off his overcoat and warmed his hands as he showered questions upon the
old caretaker.

"How is the girl behaving? Tears and hysterics?"

"At times, m'sieur."

"Takes it hard, eh?"

"She is very unhappy."

"Ever mention a man named Weldon?"

"Often."

"Humph!" He did not like this report. "Has anyone been here to disturb
you, or to make enquiries?"

"No one, m'sieur."

"We're safe enough, I guess. It was a mighty neat job, Cerise, taken
altogether, although the fools have been watching me night and day.
That's the reason I did not come sooner."

She made no comment. Mershone threw himself into a chair and stared
thoughtfully at the fire.

"Has Louise--Miss Merrick, you know--mentioned my name at all?" "At
times."

"In what way?"

"With loathing and contempt."

He scowled at her savagely.

"Do you think she suspects that I carried her away?"

"She seems to know it absolutely."

He stared at the fire again.

"I've got a queer job on my hands, Cerise, and I rely on you to help
me," said he presently, assuming a more conciliating manner. "Perhaps
I'm in a box, or a hole, or whatever else you like to call it, but it's
too late too back down now--I must push ahead and win. You see the case
is this: I love the girl and had her brought here to keep her fro