fe to Dad and Mother. No, Peter Boots, it can't be done!
You're out of it all and out of it all you must stay. Clear out of here
now, before you get in any deeper."

He fingered the old tobacco pouch.

"Heavens and earth!" he exclaimed to himself, as a sudden thought struck
him. "That's so!"

Again he took up the letter, looking closely at the formation of the
words, studying the tenor of the message, and then, with a sigh, laid
all back in the drawer and gently closed it.

"That way madness lies," he told himself, and turned to leave the room
and the house.

As he reached for the light switch, a small hand laid on his own
detained him.

Startled, he looked up and saw a witch-like, eerie face smiling at him.

"Must you go?" whispered a mocking voice, and Peter Boots, for once in
his life was absolutely stricken dumb.

Who or what was this sprite, this Brownie? What was she doing in his
father's house? Were materialized spirits really inhabiting the place?

"Hush!" Zizi warned him, "don't speak above a whisper. Are you a
burglar?"

Peter shook his head, unable to repress a smile, and his smile made the
same impression on Zizi that it had always made on everybody,--that of
absolute pleasure.

"Who are you?" she asked, scarce breathing the words.

"John Harrison," he returned, still smiling. "I'll go now, please."

"Without further explanation?"

"Yes, please."

"All right, I'll let you out. I know all about you. You sent a chap here
to interview Mr. Crane,--and you're getting follow-up literature."

"Right! Good night."

And with a swiftness and silence born of the dire necessity of the
moment, Peter went to the front door, out of it and down the street in
record time.

He turned the first corner, and walked rapidly many blocks, before
turning to see if he were followed.

He was not, and he went on his way to Brooklyn, his life tragedy still
ahead of him, but relieved by the touch of comedy added by that
mysterious and wonderfully attractive girl.

CHAPTER XVI

Zizi's Opportunity

The Blair case had come to a standstill. Although the police were still
making investigations, they were fairly well satisfied that Thorpe was
the guilty man and since he was jailed and awaiting trial, they rested
on their laurels.

Pennington Wise was by no means sure of Thorpe's guilt, and Zizi was
certain of his innocence, but though these two were working hard, as yet
they had found no other definite s