“Simply because,” said Ida, very quietly, “I am determined that you shall tell me what you know about Mr. Ellison.” The manner of Ida, so calm, determined and selfpossessed, made an evident impression upon the young lady. She came across the room, standing almost directly in front of Ida, and calmly studied the face of her visitor, as if it were new to her experience. “I know that you are supposed to be a bold and courageous young lady,” said Ida. “I know it is commonly reported that you are not unaccustomed to scenes of danger. You are in no danger here, except such as may result from your refusal to tell me what justice demands you should tell. Now, please sit down and let us get this matter over.” The mood of the young lady changed, and she laughed aloud, sarcastically rather than otherwise, saying, when she had had her laugh out: “Well, this is a new experience. Really, it is entertaining. I think I shall enjoy it.” She went back to a chair, and sat down. “Now, Miss One-of-Nick-Carter’s-People, what is your business with me?” “Miss Rainforth, you notified my chief that a robbery was to be attempted at Mr. Sanborn’s house yesterday. Subsequently, and almost immediately after the singular disappearance of Mr. Ellison, you wrote another letter to Mr. Carter, telling him a woman was at the bottom of that disappearance. Later in the evening, you made your appearance, in disguise, in places in the Tenderloin, under circumstances which, if known publicly, would ruin the most respectable young lady.” Miss Rainforth sprang to her feet, this time genuinely alarmed. “How do you know that?” she exclaimed. “What do you know? How much do you know?” Ida saw that she had made a point much stronger than she knew. Evidently, the young lady had been engaged in something the night previous, had been somewhere, and had been involved in something, the concealment of which was far more important to her than of her entrance to the all-night restaurant at midnight. Ida was quick to use the advantage she had gained, though she recognized that she was on dangerous ground, and was ignorant of what had so excited the young woman. “You know little of Nick Carter and his perfect system,” she replied, “if you do not know that he is aware of the movements of any one who is of concern to him.” Miss Rainforth fell back in her chair, muttering, rather to herself than to Ida: “I had heard so. I had been warned. But I did not believe it.” Then she turned to Ida. “Talk plainly,” she said. “What is it you want to say? What is it you want of me?” Ida stood up, deliberately replaced the revolvers in her pocket, and as calmly sat down again. She felt that she had already won her victory; if she managed the rest of the interview with skill that the reckless, courageous and masterful young woman was already cowed. In the meantime, Miss Rainforth, settling back in her chair, was regarding her visitor with apprehensive intentness.