Now perhaps you think that this kind of thing is no particular strain upon the nerves of a young girl; but Sylvia was seeking a way of escape. Where was the villain Harley, and how much longer did he mean to keep her on the rack? At this moment she saw a taxicab coming down the street, and she recognized her chance. “Please call it!” she exclaimed. Instinctively her companion raised his hand. Equally instinctive was his exclamation: “Are you going?” Her answer was her action; as the vehicle drew up by the curb, she opened the door herself, and stepped in. “To Boston,” she said; and the cab moved on. “Good-bye, Mr. van Tuiver,” she called to her surprised companion. “Good-bye, until the next incarnation!” § 10 News spread rapidly in Cambridge, Sylvia found. The next afternoon she received a call from Mr. “Tubby” Bates, and one glimpse of his features told her that he was moved by some compelling impulse. “May I sit down, Miss Castleman?” he asked. “I’ve something to ask you about. But I’m not sure, Miss Castleman—that is—whether I’ve a right to talk about it. You may think that I’m gossiping——” “Oh, but I adore gossiping,” put in the girl; whereat the other stopped stammering and beamed with relief. He was more like a Southern man than anyone Sylvia had met here; she knew just how to deal with him. “Thank you ever so much!” he exclaimed. “It’s really very good of you.” He drew his chair an inch or two nearer, and in a confidential voice began, “It’s about Douglas van Tuiver.” “Yes, I supposed so,” said Sylvia, with a smile. “Oh, then something _did_ happen!” “Now, Mr. Bates,” she laughed, “tell your story.” “This noon,” he said, “van Tuiver called me on the ’phone—or at least his secretary did—and asked me if I’d lunch at the club. When we sat down, there were two other chaps, both wondering what was up. Pretty soon he got to a subject—” Bates stopped uneasily. “I’m afraid that perhaps I won’t express myself in the right way, Miss Castleman—that I may say something you don’t like——” “Go on,” smiled Sylvia. “I’m possessed by curiosity.” “Well, it came out that he’d had an adventure. He was walking last evening, and he met a lady. She was tall and rather pale, he said—a Southern girl. She was dressed in white and had golden hair. ‘Have any of you met such a girl?’ he asked. I kept silent and let the rest do the answering. They hadn’t. ‘It was a lady in distress,’ van Tuiver went on, ‘and I offered my assistance and she accepted’——” “Oh, I did _not_!” cried Sylvia. “Oho!” exclaimed Bates, “I knew it! Tell me, what did you do?” “This is your story,” she laughed.