unless there had been a plot behind Pauline's peril.
It might be best to go directly after Harry--to put him out of the
way first. And yet, Owen pondered, there was no proof of anything
wrong. Pauline was admittedly plunging into these adventures of her
own free will. Nothing could be proved against him or Hicks.

He resumed his work. Among the letters lay an advertising dodger which
had been dropped through the door. Owen glanced at it carelessly at
first, then with keen interest. He read it over:

"BALLOON ASCENSION FROM PALISADES

"Signor Panatella, the famous Italian Aeronaut, will make parachute drop
from height never before attempted."

The ascension was to be made that afternoon from one of the amusement
parks on the New Jersey shore of the Hudson.

"This is Providence," he muttered to himself, catching up the dodger.
Slipping through the door and up the stairs, he tapped at the door of
Pauline's room. When there came no answer he entered swiftly, laid a
paper on the table and glided back to the hall, back to the library.

From there he called up Hicks.

Hicks' domiciles were so many and suddenly changeable that he claimed
nothing so dignified as a regular telephone number. But he had
scribbled on the bottom of his note the number of a saloon on the lower
West Side.

He was there when Owen rang.

"Hello, Hello, . . . Is that you, Hicks? . . . I want to see you. . . .
What? . . . No, right away. . . . Broke? . . . you always are ....
you'll get the cash all right. . . . What's that? .... Come here? ....
Not on your life. I'll come to you .... Not half that time ....
I'll take the motorcycle. All right .... Good-by."

He hung up the receiver, went up to his room and got into cycling kit.
As he came down stairs he met Pauline, who was returning from a
shopping trip.

"Good morning, Owen," she said brightly. "Do you know, I believe there
is more peril in a dry goods store than on a pirate yacht. What parts
of my new hat are left?"

"Only the becoming ones."

She sped on up the stairs. After her first imperative inquiries of the
mirror concerning what she considered her wild appearance, she picked
up the letters on her dressing table and began to run through them.

The large black type of an advertising dodger loomed among the
letters.

Pauline tripped down the stairs. To Harry, seated on the steps
enjoying the Spring sunshine and puffing a leisurely cigarette,
appeared a mysterio