s dropped to a simultaneous disappearance. The man rose,
and Dolly saw that his hair was very white and long, and cascaded in
curls to his shoulders; and that, what with this hair, the little white
goatee at the end of his chin, and the long rapier-like mustachios, of
the same color, upon his upper lip, he looked like a French musketeer of
the seventeenth century. He bowed, sweepingly. Now he was like a Spanish
grandee. But the little eyes beneath his bushy eyebrows were blue and
shrewd.

Recovering from her first movement of surprise, Dolly made straight for
the desk, her eyes set, her lips firm. "Mr. Bison Billiam?" she asked.

He bowed again in assent. "And at your service, madam," he said, and bent
his head down toward her in courteous attention.

But at the first rush of words from her, an agitation came over him; his
shrewd little eyes flitted here and there about the room as though
suspicious. He stopped her with a wide gesture. "Sh-sh," he hissed
gently; "this is very important indeed; we must not be overheard. Won't
you step into my private office. Do me this favor," he asked, opening a
heavily-paneled door behind him.

Dolly had a glimpse of a broad polished mahogany table, of heavy chairs.
She went in; he followed her; the door closed.

Fifteen minutes later, she stood again at the outer door, Bison Billiam,
knob in hand, arching above her in deferential leave-taking. "I will see
to everything," he assured her; "everything. This is certainly most
worthy of being looked into. And I shall do it myself. Myself," he
repeated, emphasizing the two little syllables as though that fact were
of tremendous importance; "myself." He bowed again, to the ground. The
door closed.

Dolly, alone on the landing, suddenly slid the length of the hall in an
airy jig. "Oh," she said, "we're going to be rich. I'll have a butler;
and things!"

"Clang!" went the elevator, stopping at the floor. Dolly abruptly became
again a very dignified little lady. Once out on the street, however, she
went straightway to the milliner's, where she purchased almost with the
last of her bank account the coveted fall hat. It was a furry toque, with
a white aigrette; it came down to her ears and made her look like a
little Cossack.

CHAPTER XIII

On the other side of the continent, Charles-Norton's retreat began to be
haunted.

He was taking his flight above the lake, one morning, in the cool gold of
sunrise, when suddenly a suspic