“Do you know where he is, then? Or could you get hold of him for me?” “I haven’t the slightest idea where he is, ma’am.” The sergeant’s stiff tone seemed also to indicate that neither did he care. Evidently he was of the party to whom Grail’s very name had become hateful. Recollecting, however, to whom he was talking, he added, less churlishly: “The adjutant, ma’am, as I understand it, hasn’t been on the reservation since seven o’clock last night, and he left no word where he was going.” “Nor when to expect him back?” “Nor when to expect him back,” the sergeant echoed, a trifle cynically, for it was a matter of general belief at the barracks that Grail, unable to face the charges against him, had skipped out. Still, it was not for him to voice any such rumor to the colonel’s daughter, and he inquired diplomatically: “In case he does come in, ma’am, is there any message you wish to leave for him?” “No; I guess not.” She hesitated. “No. I will try to call him up later in the day.” Bitterly disappointed at the failure, and doubtful whether another opportunity would be granted her to reach the attic, she leaned her head in her two hands over the table, and tried to decide what to do. Might it not be better, now that she was here, to remain beside the instrument until she could effect communication with Grail, rather than to risk the very dubious chances of again eluding the vigilance belowstairs? But she shook her head. Her absence, once discovered, and with the certainty that she could not have left the house in dishabille, they would never rest until they had ransacked the place from cellar to roof. Her retreat could not fail to be discovered, unless she were able to hide from the prying eyes of the searchers. The suggestion drew her glance to a closet or compartment at one side of the attic, which, sheathed with iron, and having a combination lock on the door, had been fitted up as a sort of strong room. She had heard it spoken of, and remembered hearing that it was now in disuse and unlocked. It was the very place. No one would ever dream of her being secreted inside, and she would be almost as safe from discovery as in a burglar-proof vault; yet there was a window at one side to give her light and air, and she could be just as comfortable there as in the wider spaces of the attic outside. She stepped quickly to the door, but as she paused to fumble with the latch there reached her from within a faint sound of rustling and scratching. Rats! The idea of opening that door, or seeking refuge in the strong room, died abruptly. With a timorous gasp, she fled down the attic steps as fast as her feet could carry her. Fortunately, there was no one on the third floor to witness her breathless exit, and, recovering somewhat from her panic, she managed to close the attic door and regain her own room without detection. Hardly was she safe, however, before Marie made her appearance, looking distinctly worried and upset.