"Marvelous, adorable Rosalind!" "That will do, Mr. Donovan"--and then with a quick change of tone she asked abruptly: "You are not afraid of trouble, are you?" "I live for nothing else!" "You are not so pledged to the Me you play tennis with that you can not serve Rosalind if she asks it?" "No; you have only to ask. But I must see you once more--as Rosalind!" "Stop being silly, and listen carefully." And I thought I heard a sob in the moment's silence before she spoke. "I want you to go, at once, to the house of the boat-maker on Tippecanoe Creek; go as fast as you can!" she implored. "To the house of the man who calls himself Hartridge, the canoe-maker, at Red Gate?" "Yes; you must see that no harm comes to him to-night." There was no mistaking now the sobs that broke her sentences, and my mind was so a-whirl with questions that I stammered incoherently. "Will you go--will you go?" she demanded in a voice so low and broken that I scarcely heard. "Yes, at once," and the voice vanished, and while I still stood staring at the instrument the operator at Annandale blandly asked me what number I wanted. The thread had snapped and the spell was broken. I stared helplessly at the thing of wood and wire for half a minute; then the girl's appeal and my promise rose in my mind distinct from all else. I ordered my horse before returning to the library, where Gillespie was coolly turning over the magazines on the table. I was still dazed, and something in my appearance caused him to stare. "Been seeing a ghost?" he asked. "No; just hearing one," I replied. I had yet to offer some pretext for leaving him, and as I walked the length of the room he stifled a yawn, his eyes falling upon the line of French windows. I spoke of the heat of the night, but he did not answer, and I turned to find his gaze fixed upon one of the open windows. "What is it, man?" I demanded. He crossed the room in a leap and was out upon the terrace, peering down upon the shrubbery beneath. "What's the row?" I demanded. "Didn't you see it?" "No." "Then it wasn't anything. I thought I saw the dago, if you must know. He'll probably be around looking for us." "Humph, you're a little nervous, that's all. You'll stay here all night, of course?" I asked, without, I fear, much enthusiasm. He grinned. "Don't be so cordial! If you'll send me into town I'll be off." I had just ordered the dog-cart when the butler appeared. "If you please, sir. Sister Margaret wishes to use our telephone, sir. St. Agatha's is out of order." I spoke to the Sister as she left the house, half as a matter of courtesy, half to make sure of her. The telephone at St. Agatha's had been out of order for several days, she said; and I walked with her to St. Agatha's gate, talking of the weather, the garden and the Holbrook ladies, who were, she said, quite well.