"My God!" Deering gasped, "gone clean mad, the whole bunch of us. Who the deuce are these lunatics anyhow?" "I don't know, Billy; honestly I don't! You know nearly as much about them as I do. Their mail goes to a bank in town, and I met my employer at a lawyer's office in Hartford. Father suspects something and made me do it, so I might watch them. The mother and daughter have been abroad a great deal, and just came home a month ago. I never saw this man Hood until to-night. The mother and daughter and the old gentleman call each other by the names you heard at the table, and the books in the library are marked with half a dozen names. Even the silver gives no clew. I've been here a week and only one person has come to the house" (she lowered her voice to a whisper), "and that was Ned Ranscomb!" He clutched her hands, and the words he tried to utter became a queer, inarticulate gurgle in his throat. "Ned came here to see a girl," she went on: "an artist who made the pictures for 'The Madness of May.' He's quite crazy about her. I did get that much out of Pierrette. This artist's a victim of the madness too, and seems to be leading Ned a gay dance!" "Took my two hundred thousand and got me to steal two more," he groaned, "and then went chasing a girl all over creation! And the fool always bragged that he was immune; that no girl----" "Another victim of the same disease, that's all," answered Constance with a wry smile. "Not Ned; not Ranscomb! That settles it! We've all gone loony!" "Well, even so, we mustn't be caught here," said Constance with decision as the music ceased. "Tell me, quick, where can I find the governor?" Deering demanded. "If you _must_ know, Billy," she replied, her lips quivering with mirth, "our dear parent is in jail--in _jail_! Tommy collected those glad tidings at the garage." Having launched this at her astounded brother, she pushed him from her and ran away through the conservatory. VIII "Tuck, my boy, you should cultivate the art of music!" cried Hood as Deering reappeared, somewhat pale but resigned to an unknown fate, in the drawing-room. "And now that ten has struck we must be on our way. Madam, will you ring for Cassowary, the prince of chauffeurs, as we must leave your hospitable home at once?" He began making his adieus with the greatest formality. "Mr. Tuck," said the mistress of the house as Deering gave her a limp hand, "you have conferred the greatest honor upon us. Please never pass our door without stopping." "To-morrow," he said, turning to Pierrette, "I shall find you to-morrow, either here or in the Dipper!" "Before you see me or the Dipper again, many things may happen!" she laughed. The trio--the absurd little Pantaloon; Columbine, laughing and gracious to the last, and Pierrette, smiling, charming, adorable--cheerily called good night from the door as Cassowary sent the car hurrying out of the grounds.