"Think so?" queried Latisan. "I know it. But I don't know what fool notion got into her up there. I have told Mr. Mern all about it. I'm the boy who woke you up!" "Do you agree, Latisan?" asked Mern, brusquely. "I'm not thinking clearly, sir. But if this man is right, I ought to apologize to her." "She is no longer employed by us, but we'll try to locate her." Mern was willing to come out in front of Crowley with that information; the situation did seem to have cleared up! "Hang around town. Come in again." Latisan dragged himself up from his chair. Then Crowley of the single-track mind--bull-headed blunderer--went on to his undoing. "I'm sorry it has come about that you've got to fire her, Chief. I know what a lot she was worth to you here, as long as she kept to her own job." "We'll let it rest," said Mern, warningly. He remembered that he had not posted Crowley on the fact that the sobriquet "Miss Patsy Jones" still hid the identity of the girl where Latisan was concerned. "All right! That suits me, Chief, so long as I get the credit. I'll shut up, saying only that I'm sorry for Miss Lida Kennard." Latisan had been moving slowly toward the door, aware that the conversation between the two pertained to their own affairs and that he was excluded. He halted and swung around when he heard the name of Lida Kennard. The torpor of idleness and woeful ponderings had numbed his wits. The name of Lida seemed to have been dragged into the affair by Crowley. Ward did not understand how she could be involved in the matter. He put that thought into a question which he stammered. Mern, knowing nothing about his secretary's lineage, resenting her secrecy and methods which he had not been able to penetrate, was not in a mood to shield her any longer. "It's the same girl, Latisan. She called herself Jones up your way. Her right name is Lida Kennard." Latisan blinked like one who had emerged from darkness into blazing light. He swayed slowly, breasting that deluge of the truth which suddenly swept through him. He walked to the window, turning his back on them, and gazed squarely into the quivering sun that was westering between lofty buildings. His eyes were enduring the unveiled sun with more fortitude than his soul endured the truth which had just been unveiled. This--this was the heart of the mystery! He was not meditating while he stood there; he was beholding! He saw in the white light the spirit of her sacrifice--a sacrifice which embraced even her submission to him; in his desolate denial of any worthy attributes in himself he was not admitting that she loved him. He realized what she had sought to achieve in the north country, why she could not declare herself. And he had allowed a trick to make a fool of him, make him a traitor to her, send him off, sneaking in byways, idling in dark corners, in the time of her most desperate need!