At last came release, and, spurred forward by the waxing friendliness of the red-nose, who also alighted, she hurried to the surface. The remaining distance was short, and in five minutes she was rummaging her shopping-bag for a latch-key. The servants were of course abed. Not a light was visible. All the house apparently slumbered in after-midnight peace. She experienced a burglarious sense of adventure in fitting her key to the lock, and a guilty start when the heavy door escaped her fingers and shut with a resounding slam. At the same instant a light streamed from the library at the farther end of the hall, disclosing Julie haughtily erect in the opening, and Craig's stricken face just behind. XXVIII "It is I, Craig," Jean called. "Surely you haven't worried?" The man groaned. "Worried!" he cried. "What does it all mean, Jean?" He would have come out to her, but Julie laid a restraining hand on his sleeve, saying,-- "Keep yourself in hand, Craig dear." Jean moved quickly down the hall and confronted them. "What is this mystery?" she demanded. "Did not the servant deliver my message?" Mrs. Van Ostade signed for her to enter the library. She passed in with a bewildered look at Atwood, who walked uncertainly to the fireplace and stood gazing down into its lifeless grate. His sister shut the door and put her back against it. "Didn't you receive my message?" Jean again addressed Craig. "Miss Hepworth was with you, and I disliked to interrupt. There was no time for a note. I left too hurriedly." "With whom?" The question was Julie's and was delivered like a blow. Jean faced her. "I went alone," she replied quietly. "Does it matter?" Mrs. Van Ostade flung out an imperious finger. "Read that card beside you on the desk," she directed. "'Paul Bartlett, D.D.S. Crown and bridge work a specialty,' Do you deny meeting that person to-day?" "Certainly not. He brought word that a sick friend needed me, and left immediately afterward." "And you have not seen him since?" "No." Her denial rang out emphatically. "Craig," she appealed, "what is the meaning of this catechism? I have been with Amy ever since I left the house. She is in great trouble. It is a terrible story." "It is indeed," struck in Julie. "Do you swallow it, Craig? Can anybody! Perhaps now you will begin to use the reasoning powers which your infatuation for this adventuress has clouded. How could you ever have trusted her! Wasn't the bare fact of the reformatory enough?" "Craig!" Appeal, reproach, anguish, all blended in that bitter cry. Atwood disclaimed responsibility with a gesture. "Your mother," he said.