Miss Rodney’s fair face reflected the perplexity on his. “Dr. Anthony, I do not understand you,” she said. “How can such a thing be? You have seen her; but you cannot tell where. Pray, explain yourself.” “I am about to do so,” he answered. “Then you will readily understand the seeming discrepancy in my statements.” Effie bowed silently, and settled herself to listen. His frank, handsome face, and quiet, earnest manner inspired her with confidence in him, although he was a stranger whom, ten minutes ago, she had never beheld. She was most anxious to hear what he could tell her of that girl whose description answered to that of Aline. She fixed her bright hazel-brown eyes upon his face with an earnestness that Dr. Anthony found very fascinating. “In order to be quite sure of dates,” he said, “I will ask you to tell me that of Miss Aline’s disappearance.” She named it quickly, and he exclaimed, with a sudden brightening of his dark eyes: “The dates correspond! Oh, how much I would give at this moment for the counterfeit presentment of Miss Aline Rodney!” In a moment he continued: “I live at the little town of Maywood, some five miles distant from this, Miss Rodney. I have practiced medicine there for several years, and may say, without vanity, that I have built up quite a creditable practice there and in the surrounding country--at least. I am always busy.” Effie bowed silently, and he went on: “Some strange things happen to a physician in the course of his practice, Miss Rodney. A mysterious thing happened to me on the night of the date you mentioned just now.” CHAPTER XIII. Miss Rodney’s face was pale with emotion and anxiety. She hung eagerly upon Dr. Anthony’s words. “A mysterious thing,” he repeated. “I was closing my office at eleven o’clock that night, preparatory to going home, when, in the darkness, a stranger touched me upon the shoulder and said, in a muffled voice: “‘Come with me at once, doctor. A lady needs your professional services.’ “I am so used to being called out at night, Miss Rodney, that at first I thought nothing of the request. I have ridden miles and miles on the darkest nights through the peaceful country neighborhood hereabouts without fear or molestation. So I said, carelessly to the man, whose face I did not see clearly by reason of the extreme darkness: ‘Is it a long distance? If not, I will walk, as my horse has been put away for the night.’ “‘A matter of two miles or more,’ he answered, in the same low, muffled voice in which he had first addressed me. ‘But my buggy is here at the corner. Come with me and I will send you back. We have no time to lose.’