er here."

The hag laid down the coins and moved laboriously to the, table.
Wallace produced from a drawer a pen, paper and ink, and told the woman
to take his chair. Owen dictated:

"Miss Pauline Marvin:

"A dog came to my house yesterday which I think is the one you advertise
for. I am an old, crippled woman and it's hard for me to get out.
Can't you come and see if it is your dog?

"Mary Sheila, 233 Myrtle Avenue."

The old woman wrote slowly in a shaking hand, and Owen waited patiently
while she addressed an envelope. Then he placed the letter in the
envelope, sealed it, and took his leave.

"And no sign of Cyrus?" inquired Harry cheerily as he entered the
library, where Pauline sat disconsolate.

She did not even answer and she was still gazing dejectedly out of the
window when Bemis brought in the mail. Two of the letters she laid
aside, unread; the third, she opened: "A dog came to my house yesterday
--" Her face lighted with hope and happiness; she read no further.

"Oh, isn't Owen--splendid," she breathed. "He knew just what to
do." And with the letter in her hand she ran out to the veranda.

"Harry! Harry!" she called across the garden. There was no answer.

"Run up to Mr. Marvin's room and see if he is there, Margaret. Bemis,
go out and see if he is at the garage."

"No, Miss Marvin," said Bemis. "He has gone into Westbury."

Pauline stood silent for a moment.

"Well, then I must go myself," she said with quick decision.

She sped upstairs and within a few minutes was, out at the garage in
her motoring dress. A mechanic was working over her racing car in
front of the garage, the racing car that was just recovering from
recent calamity in the international race.

"Is it all fixed, Employ? Can I drive it today?" she asked eagerly.

"Why--yes, ma'am--you could," said the mechanic. "But I haven't got
it polished up yet."

"That doesn't matter in the least. I want to use it to day--now."

She sprang lightly to the seat of the lithe racer and in a moment was
away down the drive.

NO. 233 Myrtle avenue was an address a little difficult to find.
Myrtle avenue was well outside the new town and Pauline had made
several inquiries before an elderly man, whom she found in the
telegraph office, volunteered directions.

She thanked him, and drove back for two miles before she found the turn
he had indicated.

The appearance of the place was unprepossessing enough to dampen even
the a