ll
you see who it is?" he asked.

She arose at once and left the room. Mershone turned quickly.

"What's your price, Fogerty?" he asked, meaningly.

"For what?"

"For getting out of here--making tracks and leaving me alone. Every man
has his price, and I'm trapped--I'm willing to pay anything--I'll--"

"Cut it out, sir. You've tried this once before. I'm not to be bribed."

"Have you really a warrant for my arrest?"

"I've carried it since Friday. It's no use, Mershone, the game's up and
you may as well grin and bear it."

Mershone was about to reply when the door opened and Diana Von Taer came
in with a swift, catlike tread and confronted him with flaming eyes.

"You coward! You low, miserable scoundrel! How dare you come here to
annoy and browbeat that poor girl?" she cried in clear, cutting accents,
without noticing the presence of Fogerty.

"Oh, shut up, Di, you're in it as deep as I am," he retorted, turning
away with a flushed face.

"I'm not, sir! Never have I countenanced this wicked, criminal act," she
declared. "I have come here to-day to save Louise from your wiles and
carry her back to her friends. I dare you, or your confederates," with a
scornful look at the detective, "to interfere with me in any way." Then
she turned to Cerise and continued: "Where is Miss Merrick now?"

"In your own room, ma'm'seile."

"Come with me, then."

With a defiant glance at Mershone she turned haughtily and left the
room. Cerise followed obediently, somewhat astonished at the queer turn
of events.

Left alone with Mershone, Fogerty chuckled gleefully.

"Why, it seems I wasn't needed, after all," said he, "and we've both of
us taken a lot of trouble for nothing, Mershone. The chances are Miss
Von Taer would have turned the trick in any event, don't you think so?"
"No, you don't understand her. She wouldn't have interfered if she
hadn't been scared out," growled the other. "She's sacrificed me to save
herself, that's all."

"You may be right about that," admitted Fogerty; and then he got up to
answer the door-bell, which once more rang violently.

An automobile stood outside, and from it an excited party trooped into
the hallway, disregarding the cutting wind and blinding snowflakes that
assailed them as they passed in. There was Arthur Weldon and Uncle John,
Patricia and Beth; and all, as they saw the detective, cried with one
voice:

"Where's Louise?"

Fogerty had just managed to close the door agains