As his fingers grasped the slender stem of the wineglass and he half drew it toward him, a gleam of unholy triumph seemed to dart from three pairs of eyes. But their satisfaction was premature. Suddenly before Vance’s vision passed the face of his gentle, white-haired mother in Chicago, whom he had promised faithfully that he would never drink a drop of intoxicating liquor. He drew back his hand. His muscles tightened, and he looked his fair tempter squarely in the face as he said: “I regret I cannot oblige you, Miss Miller; but I promised my mother I would not drink, and it is impossible that I can go back on my word.” Vance Thornton was himself again. Sadie Miller had not found him such an easy proposition after all. A look of chagrin rested for a moment on the lady’s face, while Sid Carrington uttered a strong invective under his breath. But the affair was instantly passed off with a laugh, and the boy found himself once more at his ease. The coffee for Vance and the ale for Dudley presently arrived, and then another slight signal was made by the host which the girl understood. The conspirators were about to play their last card. In the most natural way imaginable Dudley attracted Vance’s attention for a moment, and the boy half turned away from Miss Miller. During that instant she leaned slightly forward, extended her arm and dropped something into the coffee. It was all done in a moment, and when Vance turned again to the young lady she was in the act of drinking from her own glass of Madeira. He drank the coffee at intervals as he polished off a grilled bone, quite unsuspicious that he had fallen into the snare at last. The effects of the drug became evident to the watchful eyes of the three conspirators before Vance began to realize there was anything the matter with him. At length he experienced the insidious feeling of heaviness and torpor characteristic of a dose of chloral or knockout drops. “Hadn’t we better--go?” he blurted out in a thick, hesitating tone to Dudley, who was talking to Carrington. “What for? There’s no hurry. We’ll all go together presently,” was the reply of the dapper young man. Vance looked helplessly at Miss Miller, his eyes, hitherto so alert and bright, now half closed and dull. He half rose in his chair with a muttered exclamation, sank back, swayed a bit to and fro, and then utterly collapsed. “He’s safe!” cried Carrington with sudden energy, rising to his feet. “Quick, Dudley; see if he has the papers on him, and secure them before the waiter turns up.” In an instant Vance’s treacherous companion was searching him with a swiftness called forth by the urgency of the occasion. But pocket after pocket failed to yield the desired results. The option vouchers not yet presented for settlement, and such warehouse receipts as the boy was supposed to have about his person, were not to be found. In fact, not a document of any kind relating to his trip was in evidence.