paintings? I'm on call to-night, boys—which means that I must be ready to take out my car at an instant's notice. Guess I'll hit the pillow."

He stretched himself and yawned.

"Why don't they get the old count to explain the matter?" inquired Weymouth.

"I understand he can't be found," answered Dunstan.

"Perhaps the stuff is all in Berlin."

"The Château de Morancourt was never in the hands of the Germans."

"It might have been stolen by some of that great retinue of servants you spoke about," suggested "Peewee."

"Not at all likely. They were sent away some time before the count himself left."

"Well, if official investigators can't solve the mystery I'm sure it's no use for us to puzzle our heads about it," put in Watts. "I always like a story which has some sort of an end, Dunstan. Your affair of the Château de Morancourt wouldn't be so bad but for that."

"I say, let's visit the place the very first chance we get," cried Don. "Those old castles always interested me immensely, and in this case that mystery'll add to the charm."

"Sure we will, Don."

"I reckon I'll go along, too," declared the taciturn Chase, somewhat to the surprise of the others—"that is, if we don't happen to get blown into bits beforehand."

"We'll be glad to have you," said Dunstan, cordially. The art student smiled. "Of course I don't mean blown into bits." He looked around. "Any one else?"

No enthusiastic response came to his ears, whereupon he broke into a hearty peal of laughter.

"I see my story has fallen rather flat," he chuckled. "But never mind, boys. Perhaps our visit to the Château de Morancourt may be the means of our being supplied with an interesting chapter or two on the history of that ancient structure."

"At least it will be a pleasant change," grunted Chase.

"I know how it'll all end, Dunstan," giggled "Peewee." "You'll bring back a pencil drawing, all shaded by hand and labeled with the title and the date of the date."

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