“How could I be mistaken? They are out of the car now. They’re looking at the house number. What—_what_ can this mean?” Jane drew in from the window; leveled upon her parent a look of acute alarm; saw and remembered Pape. With an attempt at naturalness she explained: “Mr. Allen was my father’s lawyer and one of his oldest friends. We are surprised by this visit because he isn’t supposed to know even that dad is alive, let alone his address in New York.” “You said ‘they,’ Jane,” her father puzzled. “Who else——” “Mills Harford is with him.” The old man seemed shaken anew. “How could Harford know that we’re here unless Jasper——” “No, dad, not Jasper. He is faithful as the moon. You know that. It strikes me as more possible that—” In a return rush of suspicion she faced the Westerner. “Mr. Pape met both Mills and Judge Allen at the opera and later at Aunt Helene’s. He is the only person who, to my knowledge, has discovered my disguise and our whereabouts.” Pape returned her look steadily and rather resentfully. “That is true, Miss Lauderdale. But I have had no communication with either of them since, although I did visit both their offices with the hope of locating you. Only yesterday I was told that Harford was out of town.” The blind man threw up his hands intolerantly. “Out of town, was he, and leaving a love-letter a day at the Sturgis house for Jasper to deliver, all written at his club? Do you think that hare-hound would go out of town so long as he suspects that Jane is in it? What are they doing now?” “Crossing straight toward our steps—” the girl in low, quick tones from the window. “Judge Allen probably recognizes the house, despite its condition. He was here several times in granddad’s day. He won’t have to ask the way up.” “But, Jane, they mustn’t come up here—mustn’t get in. What shall we do?” “I don’t know, dad. Let me think. Meantime you, Mr. Pape——” Again the Westerner heard that persistent suspicion of him in her voice and saw that she had whipped from out her blouse a very small, very black, very competent-looking something which he was glad to know she wore. “You are not to show your face at the window and you are not to cross the room when they knock,” she told him. “If you so much as cough——” Pape eyed her interestedly and decided that she meant the implied threat. The puzzle of the Lauderdales, far from being solved, was growing more intricate. Why should these two delightful and, he felt sure, innocent persons so fear the prospective visit—the old man from his lawyer and friend, his daughter from the personable and wealthy young real-estater whom Irene Sturgis had declared to be her most ardent suitor? Truly, the case was one for a show of blind, dumb and deaf faith.