“Yes; no relation, although she calls him uncle. I believe he was a college chum of Miss Raynor’s father, and when the girl was left alone in the world, he took her to live with him, and took charge of her fortune.”

“A large one?”

“Fairly so, I believe. Enough to tempt the fortune-hunters, anyway, and Mr. Gately frowns on any young man who approaches him with a request for Olive Raynor’s hand.”

“Perhaps the caller today was a suitor.”

“Oh, I hardly think a man would come armed on such an errand. No; to me, the most mysterious thing about it all, is why anyone should desire to harm Mr. Gately. It must have been a homicidal maniac,—if there is really such a being.”

“The most mysterious part to me,” I rejoined, “is how they both got away so quickly. You see, I stood in my doorway opposite, looking at them, and then as soon as I heard the shot I ran to the middle door as fast as I could, then to the third room door, and then back to the first. Of course, had I known which room was which, I should have gone to door number one first. But, as you see, I was in the hall, going from one door to another, and I must have seen the men if they came out into the hall from any door.”

“They left room number three, as you entered number one,” said Norah, carefully thinking it out.

“That must be so, but where did they go? Why, if Mr. Gately went downstairs, has he not been visible since? I can’t help feeling that Amos Gately is unable to move, for some reason or other. May he have been kidnaped? Or is he bound and gagged in some unused room, say on the floor below this?”

“No,” said Talcott, briefly. “Without saying anything about it I put one of the bank clerks on the hunt and I told him to look into every room in the building. As he has not reported, he hasn’t yet found Mr. Gately.”

And then, Olive Raynor arrived.

I shall never forget that first sight of her. Heralded by a fragrant whiff of fresh violets, she came into the first room, and paused at the doorway of the middle room, where we still sat.

Framed in the mahogany door-casing, the lovely bit of femininity seemed a laughing bundle of furs, velvets, and laces.

“What’s the matter?” said a soft, sweet voice. “Has Uncle Amos run away? I hope he 

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