"Did--did he do that?"

"No, child."

"I knew he couldn't do such a thing!"

"No, he--er--couldn't, because I wouldn't allow it--not that he tried to!" added Keen hastily as the indignant brown eyes sparkled ominously. "Really, Miss Southerland, he must be all you say he is, for he has a stanch champion to vouch for him."

"All I say he is? I haven't said anything about him!"

Mr. Keen nodded. "Exactly. Let us drop him for a moment. . . . Are you perfectly well, Miss Southerland?"

"Why, yes."

"I'm glad of it. You are a trifle pale; you seem to be a little languid. . . . When do you take your vacation?"

"You suggested May, I believe," she said wistfully.

The Tracer leaned back in his chair, joining the tips of his fingers reflectively.

"Miss Southerland," he said, "you have been with us a year. I thought it might interest you to know that I am exceedingly pleased with you."

She colored charmingly.

"But," he added, "I'm terribly afraid we're going to lose you."

"Why?" she asked, startled.

"However," he continued, ignoring her half-frightened question with a smile, "I am going to promote you--for faithful and efficient service."

"O-h!"

"With an agreeable increase of salary, and new duties which will take you into the open air. . . . You ride?"

"I--I used to before----"

"Exactly; before you were obliged to earn your living. Please have yourself measured for habit and boots this afternoon. I shall arrange for horse, saddle, and groom. You will spend most of your time riding in the Park--for the present."

"But--Mr. Keen--am I to be one of your agents--a sort of detective?"

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