The door opened and Helga entered. As if drawn magnetically, her gaze went straight to Everard Colton. She stopped short. “Helga!” said he. The girl caught her breath sharply. Her hand fluttered toward her breast, and fell again. Her colour faded; but instantly she was mistress of herself. “Good-evening, Mr. Colton,” she said quietly, and gave him her hand as she came forward. “Did you come in this evening? It always is wiser to write ahead for rooms.” “I don’t understand,” he stammered. “Are you—do you live here?” “This is my father’s hotel,” she explained. “Father, this is Mr. Everard Colton. Is there a room for him?” “I’ve found my room,” said Everard hoarsely, and there followed a silence which Miss Ravenden maliciously enjoyed, her eyes sparkling at her erstwhile tormentor’s discomfiture. Haynes broke the silence. “This is all very pleasant,” he said sharply and with an effort, “but it isn’t business. And we have business of a rather serious nature on hand. There is just this to say: Somewhere on the point is this juggler. He is armed, and there is at least a strong suspicion that he is murderous. The death of the sailor, the killing of the sheep, and Mr. Colton’s adventure show plainly enough that there is peril abroad. It may or may not have to do with the juggler. But until the man is captured, I think the ladies should not leave the house alone; and none of us should go far alone or unarmed. Is that agreed?” “I agree for myself and my daughter to your very well-judged suggestion,” said Professor Ravenden, “and I have in my room an extra revolver which I will gladly lend to anyone.” The others also assented to the plan, and at Haynes’ suggestion the weapon went to Helga’s adopted father. Dick Colton had a navy revolver, Everard had his cavalry arm, and Haynes had written for a pistol. “Would it not be well,” suggested the professor, “to notify the authorities?” “The average town constable is appointed to keep him out of the imbecile asylum,” said Haynes. “I believe we can organise a vigilance committee right here and see it through. Besides,” he added with a smile, “I want the story exclusively for my paper.” CHAPTER NINE CROSS-PURPOSES HAS the generalissimo been disobeying his own orders?” called out Dolly Ravenden from the porch, as Haynes came up the pathway early the next morning. He did not respond to the rallying tone, habitual between them, which covered a well-founded friendship. Instead he said: “Miss Dolly, you heard that horse last night. What did you think of the cry?” “It went through me like a knife,” said the girl, shuddering. “I thought it was a death scream. The horse I was on thought so, too.” “I’d have sworn to it myself,” said Haynes, and fell into deep thought. “Well?” queried the girl after waiting impatiently. “It isn’t a secret, is it?”