"That's just what you have done, all the same. You have a cool head for such a young fellow--I can tell you that. If it hadn't been for you--I shudder to think of what might have happened. You are, as I have had occasion to remark before, a wonder." "Nonsense, Mr. Wattles! But I must go now; mother is sure to be worrying about me." "But there are a score of people waiting to be introduced to you, and I have promised to bring you back with me." "I can't go, Mr. Wattles." "But----" "Tell them that I---- Oh, just tell them the plain truth." "That you have a morbid horror of being lionized?" "If you want to put it in that way; and that my mother is waiting for me." "Well, well, I won't urge you--particularly as I know that you generally mean what you say and stick to it. But, let me tell you, young man, you will have to stand considerable lionizing before you leave this town, whether you like it or not." "I don't think so," smiled Al. "There is an early train in the morning, if I am not mistaken." "But you won't take it." "You will see. Well, good-night, Mr. Wattles. Oh, wait a moment!" "What is it?" "You are sure my sister got out all right?" "Oh, yes; everyone on the stage escaped within two minutes after the first alarm. Don't you know I told you that I saw her go out? You will find her with your mother when you get back to the hotel." Al said good-night once more, and walked away. "Well," muttered the manager, as he stood and watched the lad's slim figure until it was lost to view, "that boy is a corker. I don't believe he is afraid of anything on earth--except speech-making. I should like to see him really agitated for once." Mr. Wattles had his wish in less than fifteen minutes. He had just lighted the gas in his hotel room when there was a quick knock upon the door. Before he could say "Come in!" Al rushed into the room. One glance at his face showed the manager that something unusual must have happened. Never before had he seen the boy so intensely excited; he was panting for breath, and his face was ghastly pale. "What is the matter?" the old gentleman gasped. "Gladys--my sister----" the boy began. "Has anything happened to her?" "We cannot find her." "She has not returned to the hotel?" "No." "Oh, there can be no occasion for alarm. I told you she got out of the theater all right." "But she may have returned." "What should she return for? But she did not; that I am sure of." "Where is she, then?" "Oh, don't worry, my boy; she will turn up all right. Perhaps she has gone to visit friends." "Would she be likely to visit friends under such circumstances?" said the boy, almost angrily. "She has no acquaintances in this place--she told me so only this afternoon; and if she had, this is not the time she would choose for making a social call." "No, of course not, my boy. Well, what do you think has become of her?" "I believe that she has been the victim of foul play. Have you forgotten Farley's letter?"