the
Governor at seven. On his way through the hall he ran into a man whose
sudden appearance gave him a start. He was not one of the servants but a
rough-looking stranger with drooping shoulders and a smear of dirt
across his cheek. He would have passed him in the street as a laborer
returning from a hard day's work. The man did not lift his eyes but
shuffled on to the door of the Governor's room which he opened and
then, flinging round, stood erect and laughed aloud.

"Pardon me, Archie, for giving you a scare! I couldn't resist the
impulse to test this makeup!"

"You!" cried Archie, blinking as the Governor switched on the light.

"I went and came in these togs; not for a lark, I assure you, but
because I had to go clear down under the crust today. Turn the water on
in my tub and I'll be slipping into decent duds in a jiffy. Here's an
extra I picked up downtown. The scream of the evening is a
kidnaping--most deplorable line of business! Have you ever noticed a
certain periodicity in child stealing? About every so often you hear of
such a case. Despicable; a foul crime hardly second to murder. Hanging
is not too severe a punishment. Clear out now, for if we begin talking
I'll never get dressed!"

The account of the kidnaping in the park was little more than a
bulletin, but Archie soon had it committed to memory. The police had not
yet learned that the two most important witnesses had given fictitious
names, for both pseudonyms appeared in the article.

In spite of the Governor's frequently avowed assertion that he wished to
know nothing about him, Archie felt strongly impelled to make a clean
breast of the Bailey Harbor affair, the two encounters with Isabel and
his meeting with Mrs. Congdon. His resolution strengthened when the
Governor appeared, dressed with his usual care and exhilarated by his
day's adventures. At the table the Governor threw a remark now and then
at the butler as to the whereabouts and recent performances of some of
that functionary's old pals. Baring received this information soberly
with only the most deferential murmurs of pleasure or dismay at the
successes or failures of the old comrades. Baring retired after the
dinner had been served, and the Governor, in cozy accord with his cigar,
remarked suddenly:

"Odd; you might almost say singular! I've crossed old man Congdon's
trail again! You recall him--the old boy we left to the tender mercies
of Seebrook and Walters?"

"Yes; go on!" e