later the door was
opened, and she disappeared inside. The detective mopped his face
with tremulous joy.

"Doris!" exclaimed Mr. Wynne, as the veiled girl entered the room
where he sat. "Doris, my dear girl, what _are_ you doing here?"

He arose and went toward her. She tore off the heavy veil
impatiently, and lifted her moist eyes to his. There was suffering
in them, uneasiness--and more than that.

"Have you heard from him--out there?" she demanded.

"Not to-day, no," he responded. "_Why_ did you come here?"

"Gene, I can't stand it," she burst out passionately. "I'm worried
to death. I can't hear a word, and--I'm worried to death."

Mr. Wynne wondered if she, too, had seen the morning papers. He
stared at her gravely for an instant, then turned, crumpled up the
section of newspaper with its glaring head-lines and dropped it into
a waste-basket.

"I'm sorry," he said gently.

"I telephoned twice yesterday," she rushed on quickly, pleadingly,
"and once last night and again this morning. There was no--no answer.
Gene, I couldn't stand it. I had to come."

"It's only that he didn't happen to be within hearing of the
telephone bell," he assured her. But her steadfast, accusing eyes
read more than that in his face, and her hands trembled on his arm.

"I'm afraid, Gene, I'm afraid," she declared desperately. "Suppose--
suppose something _has_ happened?"

"It's absurd," and he attempted to laugh off her uneasiness. "Why,
nothing could have happened."

"All those millions of dollars' worth of diamonds, Gene," she
reminded him, "and he is--I shouldn't have left him alone."

"Why, my dear Doris," and Mr. Wynne gathered the slender, trembling
figure in his arms protectingly, "not one living soul, except you and
I, knows that they are there. There's no incentive to robbery, my
dear--a poor, shabby little cottage like that. There is not the
slightest danger."

"There is always danger, Gene," she contradicted. "It makes me
shudder just to think of it. He is so old and so feeble, simple as
a child, and utterly helpless if anything should happen. Then, when
I didn't hear from him after trying so many times over the telephone
--I'm afraid, Gene, I'm afraid," she concluded desperately.

The long-pent-up tears came, and she buried her face on his shoulder.
He stood silent, with narrowed, thoughtful eyes.

This, and the thing in the newspaper there! And evidently she had
not seen that! It was not