Although he had ridiculed Dr. Anthony’s story of his beautiful, mysterious patient, it had made an impression on him that was not easily shaken off. He often asked himself in the easy, slangy language of the day, whether there could be anything in it. He thought sometimes that he had been too hasty and incredulous in condemning the story because all his efforts to find the mysterious, hidden maiden had failed. Dr. Anthony was certainly a man to be trusted, being frank, reliable, and most intelligent. And he had not taken umbrage at Mr. Lane’s credulity. He had been frankly amused at it. When Mr. Lane had quoted, for his benefit, “Keep probability in view, Lest folks believe your tale untrue.” He frankly admitted that his story had an air of romance. “Notwithstanding which,” he gravely added, “it’s an o’er true tale.” Spite of this little chaffing, the two men having been frequently thrown together grew to like each other. There were attractive qualities in each one that pleased the other. They became quite social and friendly. When the detective returned to his city home he found it a pleasure sometimes to pause in the whirl of this strange life and drop a few genial lines to the Maywood physician. Dr. Anthony, in his turn, found it pleasant to reply. So that even before the gossipy newspapers chronicled the fact of Aline Rodney’s return to her home, Mr. Lane was made cognizant of it through the medium of the young physician’s letters. He was amazed and rather indignant. It was bad enough that she had so cleverly covered up her traces and stayed away as long at it pleased her, but that she should come home and keep her secret still was far worse. He had no vulgar curiosity over the girl, but he had a strong professional interest. She had baffled him and damaged his reputation as an invariably successful man. He was distinctly conscious of an inward pique. “I should like to shake the naughty little runaway! What business has she to outwit me?” he said to himself. Sometimes he almost made up his mind to run down to Chester and have a look at this girl who could keep a secret so well. She would be well worth looking at, he fancied, from Dr. Anthony’s enthusiastic description of her beauty. Then, too, she must have brains and will besides her beauty, or she could not have kept her secret against the odds that had been brought to bear against her. Decidedly he meant to see her. But steady business kept him rather against his will in New York. He put off his trip from time to time waiting for a convenient season. So the autumn months waned and winter was upon him before he had given himself the promised visit. At Christmas he received one of Dr. Anthony’s pleasant, friendly letters. It contained among its closing messages an invitation to Mr. Lane to be present at his friend’s marriage on the 1st of January in the pretty little Gothic church the Rodneys attended in Chester. CHAPTER XXX.