st any method by which
the truth might be ascertained.

There was, of course, the changing of the number plates. A trained
detective would no doubt be able to make something of that. But Merriman
felt that without even the assistance of Hilliard, he had neither the
desire nor the ability to tackle it.

He pondered the question, as he had pondered it for weeks, and the more
he thought, the more he felt himself driven to the direct course--to see
Madeleine, put the problem to her, ask her to marry him and come out of
it all. But there were terrible objections to this plan, not the least
of which was that if he made a blunder it might be irrevocable. She
might not hear him at all. She might be displeased by his SUGGESTION
that she and her father were in danger from such a cause. She might
decide not to leave her father for the very reason that he was in
danger. And all these possibilities were, of course, in addition to the
much more probable one that she would simply refuse him because she did
not care about him.

Merriman did not see his way clearly, and he was troubled. Once he had
made up his mind he was not easily turned from his purpose, but he
was slow in making it up. In this case, where so much depended on his
decision, he found his doubt actually painful.

Mechanically he alighted at the Gare du Nord, crossed Paris, and took
his place in the southern express at the Quai d'Orsay. Here he continued
wrestling with his problem, and it was not until he was near his
destination that he arrived at a decision. He would not bother about
further investigations. He would go out and see Madeleine, tell her
everything, and put his fate into her hands.

He alighted at the Bastide Station in Bordeaux, and driving across to
the city, put up at the Gironde Hotel. There he slept the night, and
next day after lunch he took a taxi to the clearing.

Leaving the vehicle on the main road, he continued on foot down the lane
and past the depot until he reached the manager's house.

The door was opened by Miss Coburn in person. On seeing her visitor she
stood for a moment quite motionless while a look of dismay appeared in
her eyes and a hot flush rose on her face and then faded, leaving it
white and drawn.

"Oh!" she gasped faintly. "It's you!" She still stood holding the door,
as if overcome by some benumbing emotion.

Merriman had pulled off his hat.

"It is I, Miss Coburn," he answered gently. "I have come over from
Londo