"What's the trouble, Druce?" demanded the boy. "You look pale around the gills." "You go to hell, you little rat," retorted Druce, and without waiting for the elevator vanished down the steps, with the jeering laughter of the boy ringing in his ears. CHAPTER XV THE SEARCH BEGINS FOR THE LOST SISTER There was nothing in Miss Masters' manner after Druce had made his hasty departure to indicate that she felt any thrills of triumph over the completeness of the dive keeper's rout. On the contrary she seemed unaccountably depressed. She sat down at her typewriter thinking deeply. Presently her meditations were disturbed. The door opened quietly. A man entered who, in spite of the shabbiness of his clothing, his emaciation and the haggardness of his features the reader would have had no difficulty in recognizing. He was Harvey Spencer. He stood in the open door looking at the girl uncertainly. She took him in in a glance. "Good morning," she said sympathetically. "You are looking for someone here?" "I was," replied Harvey enigmatically, "but he's gone." "Gone?" repeated the girl. "Yes," replied the caller quickly, "perhaps you can give me some information. That man, who stepped in here a moment ago--you know who he is?" "Yes," replied the girl, "his name is Martin Druce." "That's his name, yes--what's his business?" "Live stock, he says," replied Miss Masters in some surprise. "You know where he lives?" "No. Won't you sit down?" "I can't. I'm following him." The girl was bewildered. "Are you a detective?" she inquired. The question produced an extraordinary effect on the young man. He threw up his head and gave vent to a short, sharp exclamation. "Ha!" he said. "No," he went on, "I once thought I was a detective, but I woke up." Then he started for the door. "Thank you," he said. As he reached for the knob he reeled and clutched at the wall for support. Miss Masters started toward him. "Come," she said, "sit down. Aren't you feeling ill? Let me get you a glass of water." She drew a glass full from a cooler and carried it to the young man. "It's warm," she said, "you're exhausted." Harvey gulped the contents of the glass, and looked at Miss Masters mournfully. "Thanks," he said. "Yes--mighty warm." "Looking for a job?" inquired Miss Masters. "I ought to be," was the reply. "Why aren't you?" "Because," Harvey's despondency deepened, "I'm looking for a girl." "A girl from down state?" "How did you know that?" "Why," replied Miss Masters, "you don't belong to Chicago. Your clothes tell me that. And the girl--she was from your own town?" "Yes." "Tell me about it?" Miss Masters' manner was friendly. She drew a chair and sat down opposite the young man. Harvey was so moved by this unlocked for sympathy that tears filled his eyes.