Beneath the surface of Carl's polite departure swirled an undercurrent of bewildered resentment. There was nothing natural about Ruth's acceptance of the faith of Moonerism, whatever that was. Carl's thoughts of the entire evening moved rapidly back to the hideous old man they had met at the garden entrance; he recalled his words of advice to Ruth: "You have made a foolish bargain with someone. The price you will pay is too high." That old man must have sensed Ruth's intention to follow this strange religion; he knew more about the Countess Moonard than he pretended. But what? Nothing about the entire evening made sense. Ruth had become a stranger to him, a beautiful stranger. The characterization seemed significant, though in what way he could not fathom. Ruth had always been an attractive girl, but recently he had found her beauty violently compelling. And tonight, the strange new depths of her beauty had made him marvel; it was a beauty of coldness and austerity, and it frightened him. Ruth, the Ruth he knew, was and must be beautiful, but never cold, never cruelly elusive. Something was happening to Ruth, something that was taking her away from him. And that was not permissible. Carl Fielding did not allow what he loved and wanted to be taken away from him. The Countess had something to do with it, and he would fight her; but he must learn something about her, the strange power she exercised over Ruth and the other converts. Carl settled restlessly back into the interior of his car, musing over the strange events of the evening. Who might know anything about the Countess Moonard, other than her converts, whose lips were always sealed with secrecy? Although it was a slim hope, there was his old friend, Inspector Chadwick of Scotland Yard. Perhaps the eccentric detective would be able to assist him. _2. A Weird Disappearance_ Early the next day, Inspector Chadwick looked up from his desk to behold the troubled features of Doctor Carl Fielding. Carl had not slept the night before, and his worry showed plainly on his face. Chadwick leaned back in his swivel-chair, and greeted him in a tone of mock seriousness. "So you've come to confess? Well, turn over the jewels, and I'll see that they make it easy for you. I'll recommend hanging at the earliest possible date. How are you, Doc? Haven't seen you since last spring. Been intending to get around to your office for a little chat. Heard you were engaged to be married. And from the looks of that long face of yours, you must already be hitched. Sit down, put your feet on the desk, smoke my cigars, and I'll even go so far as to offer you a good drink of brandy just to show you my heart's in the right place."