shelves. Her heart gave a new bound of terror as she remembered that some of these, the most valuable of all, were at the very spot from which the light came. "Oh! Shame! Why be so foolish?" she whispered to herself suddenly. "Probably some professor with a pass-key. Probably--but what's the use? I've got to find out." With that she began moving stealthily along the narrow passageway which lay between the stacks. Tiptoeing along, with her heart thumping so loudly she could not help feeling it might be heard, she advanced step by step until she stood beside the end of the stack nearest the strange intruder. There for a few seconds she stuck. The last ounce of courage had oozed out. She must await its return. Then with a sudden burst of courage she swung round the corner. The next instant she was obliged to exert all her available energy to suppress a laugh. Standing in the circle of light was not some burly robber, but a child, a very small and innocent looking child. Yet a second glance told her that the child was older than she looked. Her face showed that. Old as the face was, the body of the child appeared tiny as a sparrow's. A green velvet blouse of some strangely foreign weave, a coarse skirt, a pair of heavy shoes, unnoticeable stockings and that face--all this flashed into her vision for a second. Then all was darkness; the light had been snapped out. The action was so sudden and unexpected that for a few seconds the young librarian stood where she was, motionless. Wild questions raced through her mind: Who was the child? What was she doing in the library at this unearthly hour? How had she gotten in? How did she expect to get out? She had a vaguely uneasy feeling that the child carried a package. What could that be other than books? A second question suddenly disturbed her: Who was this child? Had she seen her before? She felt sure she had. But where? Where? All this questioning took but seconds. The next turn found her mind focused on the one important question: Which way had the child gone? As if in answer to her question, her alert ears caught the soft pit-pat of footsteps. "She's going on to my right," she whispered to herself. "That's good. There is no exit in that direction, only windows and an impossible drop of fifty feet. I'll tiptoe along, throw on the general