I stepped down by her and she went to the side of the hall and stood. Then I had the instinct to seize her; and there, in the quarter-light, I saw what I was feeling with my hands. She was Doris Janvier. With the realization, my head seemed to hurt where I’d been hit; but my fingers held firm to her, giving her no chance to get away. “What are you doing here?” I challenged. She was quick! “I came up to see Mr. Teverson!” she said to me. “They wouldn’t let me see him downstairs. I heard he was up here!” I half shook her. “You came up to see if they were meeting in the directors’ room. You’re the “wire” inside to-day! You came to see if everybody was placed! Well, nobody’ll be in that room but guinea pigs this morning. I don’t mind telling you, for you’ll not get back to tell them.” “Oh!” she said. That was all, just then. “Oh!” I kept hold of her, not knowing what else to do or say. “Where are they?” I asked her, after a half-minute. “Who?” “Your crowd.” She waited half a minute herself and then said, “I don’t know.” “Never mind; we’ll find them. We’re following your pipes,” I assured her. I dragged her toward the front of the hall and had a better look at her. “They’re not my pipes!” she denied. “That’s true,” I admitted. “You found them in place; all you had to do was to make new openings.” “Steve!” she said to me. “Don’t try it,” I asked her. I could see her face now,--her lips straight and thin, her eyes fixed on me, her forehead damp with those tiny drops of perspiration which you know are cold. She was wearing, not the same suit she’d had on the train; but one as smart, with fur collar and cuffs. She was the same neat little thing who had so completely fooled me; but she wouldn’t again. “Steve!” she repeated my name. “I came here to find Mr. Teverson to warn him. Since he’s been warned, I don’t care.” “I do!” I retorted and held her. She’d spoken as if I’d let her walk away. Reed was back at the door of the directors’ room with little furry things in his hands. Somebody opened the door, he entered and came out quickly without the guinea pigs. He saw me and stepped up. “Who’s this, Mr. Fanneal?” he asked me, respectfully enough, gazing at Doris. I didn’t reply and he answered himself. “Oh, it’s her who was asking for Mr. Teverson downstairs.” “I’ll see to her,” I said to Reed, and I led her into a room which I found empty. “Now you’d better tell me all you know,” I advised her. “What’ll you do, if I don’t?” “You’ll not get out of this!” I promised her. “Not out of this!” Nothing yet had really happened in “this”; we’d discovered nothing actual but those slotted pipes. Not even the guinea pigs had been killed yet; but the certainty of the plot, which had convinced Teverson too, turned me sick when I thought of it. And this girl, whom I held, was in the scheme.