hree were now examining Mary's "Pet" closely, getting innocent
little flies in line for the scent, which might attract them, and
otherwise enjoying the novelty.

"Is it valuable?" asked Madaline, noting the rare crimson color inside
the cup.

"Yes, I think this one is, but I like it more than any of the others
because I raised it myself. But when you come to our place I will show
you our wonders," she offered.

"Is that why you always gather roots?" asked Cleo.

"Not exactly," Mary replied, just a trace of her cloud threatening to
darken her face. "But I can't talk about all of it now. I am sure it
must be time to go visit Grandie. Do you suppose we may go soon?"
This question was addressed to Cleo.

"I'll see if Auntie has finished," Cleo answered, running back to the
house. Mary arranged a safer place for her pitcher plant, out where
insects might find its fatal honey. Then, gathering up the basket,
she, with the others, hurried back to the veranda. They found the
three men just leaving, and as Mrs. Dunbar smiled frankly it was easy
to guess the result of their interview had not been altogether
unpleasant.

Michael had also been in the conference, and he delayed a moment to
speak privately with Mrs. Dunbar.

"How is Shep?" she asked aside, so that her voice could not reach the
girls.

"Coming around all right," replied the man, gladly. And he brought in
a clew to his enemy. "Step inside and look at this." He took from his
pocket a handkerchief. It was yellow in color, silk in texture, and
was bordered with drawn work. Mrs. Dunbar examined it closely.

"Foreign, of course," she replied. "Those people seem to be pretty
well organized. Take care of that, Michael; we may easily match it up
later. Now I have to see what we are going to do about Professor
Benson. The girls seem to need very little assistance, but we must
watch closely to see they make no mistakes. This is more of a plot
than I supposed, but our police are glad to get on the track of these
men. Here are the children. If they ask for Shep make some reasonable
excuse."

The wonderful story of the pitcher plant, of how it ate breakfast of
flies and bugs, also what especial value it was--this and much more was
poured into the ears of Mrs. Dunbar before she had a chance to grasp
the meaning of the newest excitement.

"Wonderful! wonderful!" replied the hostess, really deeply interested
in the "fly catcher." "I have always wanted