the room of mysteries. For a full two minutes she allowed the scene to be photographed on the sensitive plates of her brain. Then turning slowly away she whispered: "Yes, I believe it is."

They were just thinking of seeking a place of greater safety when a footstep sounded on the pavement close at hand. Crouching low they waited the stranger's passing. To their consternation, he did not pass but turned in at the short walk which led up to the cottage. Crouching still lower, scarcely breathing, they waited.

The man made his way directly to the door. After apparently fumbling about for an electric button, he suddenly flashed out an electric torch. With an inaudible gasp Florence prepared to drag her companion out of their place of danger. But to their intense relief the man flashed the light off, then gave the door a resounding knock.

That one flash of light had been sufficient to reveal to Lucile the features of his face. She recognized it instantly. In her surprise she gripped her companion's arm until she was ready to cry out with pain.

The door flew open. The man entered. The door was closed. "Look!" whispered Lucile, pressing Florence toward the spot where the light streamed out. "Look, I know him." She gave Florence but a half moment, then dragging her from the place of vantage pressed her own face to the glass. "This would be abominable," she whispered, "if it weren't for the fact that we are trying to help them--trying to find a way out."

The man, a very young man with a slight moustache, had removed his coat and hat and had taken a seat. He was talking to the old man. He did the greater part of the talking. Every now and again he would pause and the old man would shake his head. This pantomime was kept up for some time. At last the young man rose and walked toward the bookshelves. The old man half rose in his chair as if to detain him, then settled back again.

The young man's eyes roved over the books, then came to rest suddenly in a certain spot. Then his hand went out. The old man sprang to his feet. There were words on his lips. What they were the girls could not tell.

Smiling with the good-natured grace of one who is accustomed to have what he desires, the young man opened the book to glance at the title page. At once his face became eager. He glanced hurriedly through the book. He turned to put a question to the old man beside him.

The old man nodded. Instantly 

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