Paul and Hazel Hastings were indeed devoted brother and sister. Paul was also a devotee of the motor, and more than the amateur chauffeur, yet not quite the professional. He had an interesting part to play in the story "The Motor Girls On a Tour." But Cora had just remarked, Hazel had not been with them during the summer in which this story took place, and, as Jack further explained, this was due to the fact that Paul Hastings, after a severe illness, had taken a position to operate a car abroad, Mr. Robinson having arranged the "business end," in recognition of Paul's heroic work for Mr. Robinson in a mysterious robbery. "But Belle had a letter from Hazel," said Jack, after some thought, the trick of which was not lost on Cora. "Yes, she said Hazel might go away with them. And now, sis, where are they going, anyway? Come, haven't I waited long enough for that secret?" "It really isn't any secret, Jack, but the girls have a baby way of wanting to keep things to themselves until all the preparations are made. I find it convenient to--keep my affairs to myself, so you see, dear, I have a selfish motive in humoring the others." Cora's cheeks lighted under the cascade of shadows that fell from her splendid black hair. Jack saw, too, that his "little sister" was growing up, and even in her summer plans there were things other than flounces and frills to be considered. The lighter vein of their conversation had been taken up after Cora had told her brother all that she felt it was prudent to tell about Andy's early morning call. And now---- "Well, I suppose you are determined to see the detective fellows," said Jack, moving Cora's chair out so that she might more easily leave the table. "What else can I do?" she asked, and answered at once, with her decisive tone of voice. "I think with Andy--you ought to 'git away,'" and Jack smiled in imitating the earnest youngster. "And make matters look as if I were more deeply involved than I really am? Now, Jack, dear, that is not like you." "No matter what you make matters look like, so long as you don't make them look like themselves," replied the boy. "That's my brand of logic in a case like this. Don't you see, sis, you may throw them off the track, and by getting a chance to talk with you, they are bound to find out something, or lose their badges." Cora's face was bent in the roses that stood on the serving table. "But what could I do?" she asked, this time with less decision. "Anything. Just take a run to--the beach--or anywhere. Leave me to see the officers." The rapid tooting of horn of the _Flyaway_ interrupted them. "My!" exclaimed Cora, "more early morning callers? There's Bess!" And, true enough, there was Bess, guiding her car up the drive, her veil flying in the breeze, and her cheeks like the very roses that outlined the path. "Why the where-for-ness?" demanded Jack. "I am startled--collapsed--I might say, by the suddenness of this--pleasure----"