“Oh, it's you, Miss Claire!” the woman exclaimed in surprise. “What's brought you over here to-night, dear? Is your father worse?” “No,” Claire answered. “He wanted Hawkins, and----” Mrs. Hedges shook her head. “Hawkins ain't in,” she said; “but I'll see that he gets the message when he comes back. He went out with the car quite a little while ago with some men he had with him.” “With the car?” Claire found herself suddenly a little frightened, she did not quite know why. “Well, he's back now, Mrs. Hedges.” “Oh, no,” asserted Mrs. Hedges positively. “I might not have heard him going upstairs, but I would have heard the car coming in. It ain't come back yet.” “But Hawkins _is_ upstairs,” said Claire a little heavily. “I--I've been up.” “You say Hawkins is upstairs?” Mrs. Hedges stared incredulously. “That's very strange!” She turned and ran back into her room and to a rear window. “Look, Miss Claire! Come here! You can see!” And as Claire joined her: “The door of the shed, or the gradge as he calls it, is open, and you can see for yourself it's empty. If he's upstairs what could he have done with the car? It ain't out in front of the house, is it, and--oh!” She caught Claire's arm anxiously. “There's been an accident, you mean, and he's----” “I am sure he never left the house,” said Claire, and her voice in its composed finality sounded strange even in her own ears. She was thoroughly frightened now, and her fears were beginning to take concrete form. There were not many who would have any use for that queer old car that was so intimately associated with Hawkins! She could think of only one--and of only one reason. She pulled at Mrs. Hedges' arm. “Come upstairs,” she said. Mrs. Hedges reached the door of Hawkins' room first. “Oh, my God!” Mrs. Hedges cried out wildly. “He ain't dead, is he?” “No,” said Claire in a strained voice. “He's--he's only had too much to drink. Help me lift him on the bed.” It taxed the strength of the two women. “And the car's stole!” gasped Mrs. Hedges, fighting for her breath. “Yes,” said Claire; “I am afraid so.” “Then we'll get the police at once!” announced Mrs. Hedges. Claire looked at her for a moment. “No,” she said slowly, shaking her head. “You mustn't do that. It--it will come back.” “Come back?” Mrs. Hedges stared helplessly. “It ain't a cat! You--you ain't quite yourself, are you, Miss Claire? Poor dear, this has upset you. It ain't a fit thing for young eyes like yours to see. Me--I'm used to it.” “I am quite myself.” Claire forced a calmness she was far from feeling into her voice. “You mustn't notify the police, or do a thing, except just look after Hawkins. It--it's father's car, you know; and he'll know best what to do.” “Well, maybe that's so,” admitted Mrs. Hedges. “Do you know who the men were who were here with Hawkins?” Claire asked.