Yet the more he examined the fair, bewitching face of the portrait, with its childish face and sunny, golden curls, the more he knit his brow and whistled softly to himself--a habit he had when thinking deeply. He placed the portrait in his breast-pocket, and walked slowly home. A brilliant idea was in his active brain. "I shall soon see," he muttered. His wife met him at the door, and he saw that her eyes were red with weeping. "What is the commotion, my dear?" he asked, hanging his hat and coat on the hat-rack in the hall. "What's the difficulty?" "Our protégée has gone, Harvey; she--" "Gone!" yelled the detective, frantically, "where did she go? How long has she been gone?" Down from the rack came his hat and coat. "Where are you going, Harvey?" "I am going to hunt that girl up just as fast as I can." "She did not wish to see you, my dear." "I haven't the time to explain to you," he expostulated. "Of course, you have no idea where she went, have you?" "Wait a bit, Harvey," she replied, a merry twinkle in her eye. "You have given me no time to tell you. I do know where she went. Sit down and I will tell you all about it." "You will make a long story out of nothing," he exclaimed, impatiently; "and fooling my time here may cost me a fortune." Very reluctantly Mr. Tudor resumed his seat at his wife's earnest persuasion. "Skim lightly over the details, my dear; just give me the main points," he said. Like the good little wife she was, Mrs. Tudor obediently obeyed. It was not often the cool, calculating detective allowed himself to get excited, but as she proceeded he jumped up from his seat, and paced restlessly up and down the room. He was literally astounded. "Rex Lyon's wife," he mused, thoughtfully. "Well, in all the years of my experience I have never come across anything like this. She has gone to Whitestone Hall, you say, to stop the marriage?" he questioned, eagerly. "Yes," she replied, "the poor child was almost frantic over it. You seem greatly agitated, Harvey. Have you some new case connected with her?" "Yes," he answered, grimly. "I think I have two cases." Mr. Tudor seldom brought his business perplexities to his fireside. His little wife knew as little of business matters as the sparrows twittering on the branches of the trees out in the garden. He made up his mind not to mention certain suspicions that had lodged in his mind until he saw his way clearly out of the complicated affair. He determined it would do no harm to try an experiment, however. Suiting the action to the thought, he drew out the portrait from his pocket. "I do not think I shall have as much trouble with this affair as I anticipated." Mrs. Tudor came and leaned over his shoulder. "Whose picture have you there, Harvey? Why, I declare," she cried, in amazement, "if it isn't Daisy Brooks!"