“That was Bhag,” said Michael. “I knew he was not here when we arrived. He must have come in through the opening while we were upstairs.” The car that had carried Adele had been found. It was Stella’s, and at first Michael suspected that the girl was a party to the abduction. He learnt afterwards that, whilst the woman’s chauffeur had been in the kitchen, virtually a prisoner, Penne himself had driven the car to the girl’s house, and it was the sight of the machine, which she knew belonged to Stella, that had lulled any suspicions she may have had. Michael was in a condition bordering upon frenzy. The Head-Hunter and his capture was insignificant compared with the safety of the girl. “If I don’t find her I shall go mad,” he said. Jack Knebworth had opened his lips to answer when there came a startling interruption. Borne on the still night air came a scream of agony which turned the director’s blood to ice. “Help, help!” Shrill as was the cry, Michael knew that it was the voice of a man, and knew that that man was Gregory Penne! CHAPTER XXXV WHAT HAPPENED TO ADELE THERE were moments when Adele Leamington had doubts as to her fitness for the profession she had entered; and never were those periods of doubt more poignant than when she tried to fix her mind upon the written directions of the scenario. She blamed Michael, and was immediately repentant. She blamed herself more freely; and at last she gave up the struggle, rolled up the manuscript book, and, putting an elastic band about it, thrust it under her pillow and prepared for bed. She had rid herself of skirt and blouse when the summons came. “From Mr. Knebworth?” she said in surprise. “At this time of night?” “Yes, miss. He’s going to make a big alteration to-morrow and he wants to see you at once. He has sent his car. Miss Mendoza is coming into the cast.” “Oh!” she said faintly. Then she had been a failure, after all, and had lived in a fool’s paradise for these past days. “I’ll come at once,” she said. Her fingers trembled as she fastened her dress, and she hated herself for such a display of weakness. Perhaps Stella was not coming into the cast in her old part; perhaps some new character had been written in; perhaps it was not for “Roselle” at all that she had been re-engaged. These and other speculations rioted in her mind; and she was in the passage and the door was opened when she remembered that Jack Knebworth would want the manuscript. She ran upstairs, and, by an aberration of memory, forgot entirely where the script had been left. At last, in despair, she went down to the landlady. “I have left some manuscripts which are rather important. Would you bring them up to Mr. Knebworth’s house when you find them? They’re in a little brown jacket——” She described the appearance as well as she could. It was Stella Mendoza’s car; she recognized the machine with a pang. So Jack and she were reconciled!